Beauty in the Darkness
by Juniorstarcatcher
Summary: In exchange for the stolen Tesseract that they need to put the timeline back in order after Thanos' defeat, The Avengers offer Loki a deal. He gives up the Tesseract and, in exchange, they'll give him a planet to rule…And a Queen to rule alongside him.
1. Chapter 1

_"_Would I go to hell all over?

I would. For what it's worth.

_-Mythic the Musical_

* * *

For a while, after he escaped capture in New York with the Tesseract, Loki had imagined that he might be able to keep it. And for a while shorter than that, he allowed himself to fancy what he might do with it. With the object's immense power, it would be easy to enslave a planet and bow it to his will. But he'd already tried that once before, and it had ended with him broken and in shackles. Besides, there was something so unpleasant about the way manipulation contorts the faces of the innocent, something so unlovely about being a ruler only loved and respected and feared because of a glowing blue box.

No, there had to be a better use for this cube of unimaginable power. Perhaps he could use it as a currency…or a bargaining chip.

He'd used his magic to hide himself away in the mountains of Earth, where he planned his next move. With the Tesseract, eventually he would find his way into space, but for now, he sat in the sapphire glow radiating through his unassuming log cabin and plotted.

It was on one of these unremarkable days when the door—unlocked, of course, because who would dare to interrupt a god while he's plotting?—to his humble human accommodations slammed open, announcing the arrival of a visitor.

Loki did not raise his eyes from the star maps floating in front of him, projected from the soul of the Tesseract currently resting on a weathered dining table. At first, he assumed that the visitor was his brother, come to drag him on another escapade or to arrest him. But the moment he heard the voice, he knew it was something else entirely.

"Loki of Asgard."

"Ah, the Star-Spangled Captain graces me with his presence." Loki glanced at the man's imposing reflection in a dull silver decoration on a nearby table, examining him without giving him the dignity of his full attention. Strange. The Captain seemed much older now that he had during their last encounter in New York. Loki casually indicated to the Tesseract, listening closely as the Captain's booted steps closed in behind him. "I suppose you'll be wanting this."

"If you'd be so kind."

"I'm afraid I can't do that. And I think you know that. So, what army have you brought this time to stop me? Another Hulk? Or have you come alone, thinking you could defeat me without the assistance of your band of pathetic Earth warriors?"

The memory of his most recent encounter with these men—what they'd called the _Battle of New York_ on Earth's communications—burned freshly in his mind. Bitterness filled his mouth at the thought of his defeat. Captain America, without being invited and without an air of pretense, helped himself to one of the dining table's many chairs.

"I wouldn't flatter myself to think I could beat a space wizard like you, though I'll have you know I just defeated Thanos."

"You…_What_?"

"Bit of a long story, really. The upshot of it is this. I need that stone. So, I'm here to make a deal."

Loki had only just slipped out from Thanos' control himself. He was a _God_. If Thanos had been here, if The Avengers had so much as _thought_ about Thanos, then he would have known it. No, what this man was saying was impossible. He scoffed, a pale defense against doubts that slithered into the back of his mind and sunk their fangs in deep.

"You couldn't have defeated Thanos."

"Well, I didn't do it on my own."

"I don't believe you."

He couldn't believe it. Even with the knowledge of The Cosmos on his side, with all that he knew about magic and sorcery, it was an unbelievable feat. No one could defeat Thanos, especially if he was after The Infinity Stones. And it was foolish to try.

The Captain offered a long, weighty sigh, and rose to his feet.

"I don't like using this thing, but here."

For the first time, Loki noticed the case he carried, a silver box that he opened to reveal stones. Infinity Stones. Picking up the yellow one, he pressed it to Loki's head, an action so shocking and sudden he couldn't even flinch before the stone's power overtook him.

In that moment, he saw visions. So many visions. _Loki in a cell. You must be truly desperate to come to me for help. Loki giving himself up for the cause of the Nine Realms. Loki impersonating his father. Loki and Thor watching their father give up his ghost. The battle against Hela. Him, sacrificing his own life to save the people of Asgard against the titan Thanos. That time, the sacrifice stuck. _

He saw more, though. More than he wanted to see and more than his mind could truly comprehend, of how The Avengers teamed up to manipulate time and save the universe from Thanos, of how recovering the stone from him after he'd escaped following the Battle of New York was part of the plan to set the universe to rights.

When, finally, the stone released him, Loki could barely breathe. He gulped in air and clutched the nearby table for support as Captain America looked on with piteous eyes.

"Your brother would want me to have that stone."

"Those visions could be false, images conjured up to make me malleable. You think I haven't tried that trick before?" Loki choked, still struggling to control his racing heart and mind. After all, he'd just seen a mirror of his life, of his future. It was a lot to process.

"Yeah, I had a feeling you'd say something like that," the captain locked the case with some kind of lock that not even Loki's magic to penetrate. For a brief moment, he considered using the magic of the Tesseract to influence this man and bend him to his will, but the impulse passed when he spoke again. "Which is why I'm prepared to make you a deal."

"A deal with Earth's mightiest hero. Consider me flattered."

He wasn't flattered. Not even a little bit. But he _was_ intrigued. If Captain America had come here, unarmed, with Infinity Stones that Loki could have easily stolen, then he had to have a pretty incredible bargaining chip.

"You give me that stone, and I'll use this to give you what you've always wanted."

"And what is that?"

Touching a pad on his utility cuff, the man called up a holographic projection. Projections of broken, lost faces. Destroyed families. Decimated cities. Somehow, Loki knew that this was Thanos' handiwork.

He wasn't one for compassion, but he knew what it was like to feel like a puppet, a plaything of the Great Titan. The sight of children screaming out for mothers who would never again answer twisted the space where his heart used to be.

"With the galaxy torn apart, there are refugees," the Captain said, letting the images do their bloody holographic dance through the air. "People desperate for a home. For a place to belong." The intruder's eyes met his, and Loki felt the quiet confirmation of truth settle uncomfortably around his shoulders. "I think you know something about that."

Loki gave only the slightest of nods in response.

"Why I see it, what we're going to need is a system of new planets, a place to house all of those people and give them a fresh start. And one of those planets, the first of them, is going to need a leader."

"You despise me," Loki hissed, mostly to give him an excuse to stop feeling anything for the poor creatures currently projected in the air around him. He turned himself away from compassion and towards suspicion instead. "You saw what I did to your pathetic little planet and its people."

"I did. But I also know you tried to save people from Thanos. Maybe not in this timeline, but in one of them. In the timeline I'm from, you gave your life to protect the refugees of Asgard, to protect hope in the universe. And, maybe more importantly, your brother believes in you. He believes that you'll be a good and just leader."

"And if I'm not?"

"Well, now we have more than a few space friends who would be more than happy to dethrone you and put someone good and just in your place. Captain Marvel? The Guardians of The Galaxy? Ever heard of them?"

The Guardians of the Galaxy, he'd never heard of. But Captain Marvel _was_ a name that shook him to his core. There weren't many beings in the universe he feared, but her…he did not want to cross.

Not that he planned on it. He'd make a better king, a better ruler, than Thor or his father or Hela or any of the ones who came before him ever could have hoped to become.

"So, a planet and a people to lead in exchange for that box. If you agree now, I'll take you back to my timeline. It'll be as if you never left, only this time, you won't just be a prince. You'll be a king. If not, then…" Captain America's hands shifted on the box containing the Infinity Stones, a subtle threat. "Well, we'll have to do this the hard way. What's it going to be? And make it quick. I've got a date I've got to make."

Loki wasn't one for bargaining. Unless, of course, he won. Plucking the Tesseract from the dining table, he cradled it in his hands. "I agree to your terms."

"Hand it over."

He almost did just that. But he wouldn't have been Loki, Trickster God and Lord of Lies if he didn't have one final trick up his sleeve.

In those memories of his future, one constant remained: no matter where in the galaxy he went, no matter how many victories he won or battles he fought, he'd always been alone. It occurred to him that he no longer wanted to be alone.

And...It probably wouldn't hurt to have a human bargaining chip should the Avengers ever decide to try and invade his new kingdom.

A slippery smile slithered across his lips. "But Captain, there is one last thing."

"And what is that?"

"I shall require a Queen."

* * *

**First Chapter! This is my first Tasertricks fic and I'm so excited about it! I hope you all like it. Now that The Avengers are dealing with time travel, writing stories is a little tricky, but I've loved writing this one so far. Please leave me a review and let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

Things hadn't been easy for Darcy. Not since The Snap. Not since half the population had suddenly disappeared. Ever since That Day, she'd done her best to be herself, tried with all her might to just, you know, be _normal_. She'd cut up and make jokes at her own expense and do all of the things that Old Darcy would have done.

But at night, when the world was quiet and no one expected anything of her, she'd bundled herself up in her coziest grandma blanket and slippers and climb to the top of her building, where she'd spend her restless, sleepless nights charting the stars in search of some kind of sign, some kind of meaning to the sudden emptiness of their world. It was the only thing that kept her sane during those five years, the only sense of control she felt over the end of the world.

She'd thought that once the people came back, once the world was alright again, once The Avengers had saved the day and everyone lived happily ever after that everything would be different. That things would be just like they were Before. But that hadn't happened. Still, every night, she found herself up on the roof top of her building, staring at the stars and prodding them for answers. Answers she knew they weren't capable of giving.

At least…That's what she thought. Until one, fateful night shortly after The Great Return—that's what people were calling it these days—when she spotted something strange in the sky. Something she'd never seen before.

"Holy shit!"

And that's how she ended up inviting herself over to Doctor Bruce Banner's office at five in the morning, juggling five Trenta cups of Starbucks—four for her and one for the half-Hulk, half-man she was supposed to be meeting.

"What's up, Doc?" she snarked, letting herself into his lab as she usually did. During the years between The Snap and The Great Return, they'd gotten to know each other very well; some days, she liked to think of the big guy as a kind of father figure, just like Doctor Selvig.

It was a weird family tree, with a once-possessed astrophysicist as one of her dads on one side and a mutated green giant on the other, but she liked it just fine. Bruce's face lit up at the sight of her, and he scooped her up in a big hug, nearly crushing the coffee in the process.

"Darcy. It's good to see you."

"Yeah, can we skip the pleasantries?" she heard herself say. "I've kind of got some worrying data here."

"What is it?"

There was no pretty way to say this. No way to sugar-coat the truth of what she'd seen and what all of her readings confirmed.

"…There's a new star in the sky."

She paused, waiting for his reaction. But Banner sipped his coffee, casual as if she'd just told him today's weather report. "Anything else or…?"

"I was pausing for dramatic effect. And you totally didn't deliver on the shocked gasp I was hoping for, by the way."

"Well, believe it or not, the most advanced science team in the world, the team who figured out time-travel, by the way, _did_ actually notice a new star."

Shame wasn't really an emotion she was used to. Most of the world rolled off of her shoulders as she marched to the beat of her own drum. But even that gentle nudge from Bruce, a man she looked up to in basically every way, sent a rush of blood straight to her cheeks. Of course he would have seen the star. How stupid was she, thinking _she_ was going to bring something to the attention of one of the world's greatest scientists?

Her mind immediately took to psycho-analyzing. Even with the world's population restored…She'd been pretty lonely lately, isolating herself up with her powerful telescope and staring at the stars. She'd probably fooled herself into thinking this was a good idea because she was lonely. Immediately, she began collecting her things.

"Oh. Right. Yeah. Of course. Um. Good for you. Sorry I wasted your time."

"No. Don't apologize. We actually didn't notice it on any scans. We knew about it because we made it."

"You _made_ a star?"

"It's a planet, actually."

"You made an entire freaking _planet_?"

"Again, we figured out time-travel. I don't know why this is surprising to you."

Darcy tried over and over again to mentally piece this puzzle together. Her astonishment and confusion only _barely_ outweighed her jealousy that they hadn't asked for her help on the project.

"What? And you just weren't going to tell anyone?"

The muscles in Bruce's green face tightened. Her suspicions piqued. Something was wrong. "Actually, we were going to tell you. We were just waiting for the right time."

"Why?"

As Darcy helped herself to a long, burning gulp of coffee, Bruce settled his eyes upon her, reading her face as if she were some kind of new equation he couldn't quite decipher. Immediately, she pulled her walls down tight around her. If there was anyone on Earth besides Jane who could see through her, it was Bruce. And he was the one person on Earth she didn't _want_ to see through her.

"How have you been feeling lately, Darce?"

"Fine. Really. Fine."

But Bruce didn't buy it. "Headaches? Anxiety? Not sleeping? Nightmares when you do? I mean, come on. You were watching the stars at—" He checked the timestamp on the printed out readings she'd provided him. "-3:46 in the morning. Who do you think you're fooling?"

"I work with space. I work at night. It's not totally unbelievable."

Darcy wasn't going to tell him that he was right. She also wasn't going to tell him the rest of it. Mostly, how…utterly and completely lost she felt. For the five years after The Snap, she'd spent her every waking minute and most of the time in her dreams struggling to figure out something she could do to make a difference, something she could do to bring them back. And she hadn't done much of anything. She hadn't made a difference. All of her work hadn't saved a single person.

And now that The Avengers _had_ brought everyone back, she had to live with the guilt of that. Saving them was possible. She just hadn't been the one smart enough or strong enough or good enough or heroic enough to do it.

That haunted her, following her around like a shadow she just couldn't shake, constantly casting darkness on the world around her.

She still believed in the good of this world. She still loved the crunch of a first bite of a Dorito and the pinks of a sunrise and desert flowers. But…the nightmares hadn't left. And Darcy still hadn't been able to take her eyes off of the stars. She hadn't been able to shake the feeling that some day, she could do some good in this world.

Bruce reached out and placed his hand on top of hers. The weight of his touch was comforting, and she almost—_almost_—wanted to reach up and hug him. The only thing that kept her from doing it was that he'd _know_ she wasn't the tough badass she always purported to be if she just started randomly giving out hugs when their conversations turned serious. "It's okay to admit that things aren't like they were before."

"We got everyone back," Darcy swallowed, hard. "That's all that matters."

"Is it, though? The world almost ended. It's okay to still struggle."

"I'm not struggling. I'm fine." Darcy searched for something, anything, that would distract from the tension in the air. She spotted a bowl of fruit on the table where they were seated, a long, white construction usually meant for meetings and presentations. She collected three apples and shot Bruce her smuggest smile. "Would I be able to, say, I don't know, juggle these apples if I wasn't okay?"

No sooner had she started juggling than the fruit splattered to the floor. She sheepishly kicked them out of sight.

"Don't let that diminish my point," she instructed.

"You wouldn't be able to juggle those apples in any case because I don't think you have the hand-eye coordination for juggling," Bruce teased.

Her juggling exhibition might have been a massive failure, but at least he wasn't looking at her as if she was a freshly kicked puppy. Recovering, she returned to her work. "So, you planted a star to get my attention for a therapy session?"

"No, I didn't tell you about the _planet_ because I figured it was the only sure-fire way to get you here. And this isn't a therapy session. You know I'm not that kind of doctor."

"Why did you want to get me here?"

Just as fast as he'd turned into jovial, joking Bruce, he slipped back into that grave Dad voice of his.

"What if I could offer you a fresh start?"

"I'd take it," she said, without thinking.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

It was a no-brainer. Ever since the entire Thanos situation, her soul had been stuck. And she needed some way, _any_ way, to get it started again. She was so tired of existing. She wanted to live again.

"No matter what the price?"

She shrugged. "It's a fresh start, not saving half the planet. The price can't be that high."

Bruce leaned back in his chair. Suddenly, he was looking everywhere but her, as if he couldn't bear to meet her eyes. "What if the price was marrying Loki, Thor's brother? And being queen of that new planet up there?"

For a moment, Darcy didn't say anything. The questions just ran over and over again in her mind until she realized what it was: peak comedy. A laugh escaped her, booming out over the beeps and whirs of the scientific machines all around them.

"Yeah, sure. I'll practice my curtsy."

"I'm not joking, Darce."

Those four words struck her like a hammer, killing all traces of her giggles. When Bruce finally met her eyes, she could see the truth, and the weight of it, pouring out of him.

"In exchange for the Tesseract to restore the timeline, we had to offer him a place to rule and a Queen. We've already got the planet. And…thanks to some of our friends who can see possibilities future and a few algorithms I wrote up myself…you're the Queen. Or, you could be."

Silence between them. She blinked. She breathed. Her heart kept beating. Her mouth even opened. But it was a long time before she could find anything to say.

"I can't remember the last time I was at a loss for words. Will you check my temperature? Maybe I'm dying."

"Look, it's a fresh start. You'll have a planet of resources at your disposal to continue your research. Think of the discoveries you could make, the knowledge you could bring into the universe."

Sure, but that came at a cost. A cost she didn't know she was ready to pay. This…This was too much. Cosmic destiny was not for her. She was an astronomer, not an astrologer. She looked to the stars for answers, not determinations of her fate.

"Yeah, while married to a _monster_ who tried to enslave humanity."

"He isn't so bad. I've seen it. He can be good and kind and honorable. He even sacrificed his life to help stop Thanos. Look…I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't know it was safe."

"And what if you're wrong? What if he _is_ the monster and not the hero?"

"Then we will move the universe to save you." Bruce lifted a small smile, lifting a hand to call up images of downtrodden humans and aliens and their accompanying files. "Hey, come here. Look at this."

"What is this?"

"These are the people who have asked for refuge on this planet, millions of petitions to settle. These people need a home. And they need someone to look up to. Someone strong and compassionate and fiery and loving and all of the good things that you are."

Darcy's insides twisted. She'd wished for a way to make a difference and to do some good; she'd studied the stars hoping they would give her a way to do it. And, in their own way, they had. There was a planet of people who needed her, a planet of people she could help. Was she really going to let her fear hold her back?

Oh, who was she kidding? She hadn't even been able to save _half_ of a planet. Who was she kidding, thinking she could help an _entire_ planet?

"I can't…I slept with all of the lights on last night because I was afraid Thanos was going to come and strangle me in my sleep. I always have to sit with my back to the wall in case someone sneaks up on me. I had to break my doorbell because it was scaring me too bad. I can't lead a planet of people. No one would _want_ me to lead them."

Bruce, with a knowing look in her eye that Darcy knew meant trouble, pressed a few buttons on a nearby tablet. "Well, thankfully, you won't be alone."

The room darkened, and a projection flickered to life, one of the dark-haired trickster God presiding over a crowd of refugees, speaking to them with a passion that gripped at her heart. None of them had the tell-tale eyes of a hypnotized captive, yet they all looked up at him reverently, hopefully.

Darcy had to admit… The sight of him sent a white-hot flush down her chest and she had to swallow back a _holy shit_ as the sun glinted off of his simple gold circlet and caught in his bright eyes.

If he was a monster, then he was a handsome one.

But it wasn't really the handsome devil side of him that captured her attention. It was the softness in his eyes, the earnestness with which he spoke to the refugees crowding around him that did.

There was arrogance in him, yes. It was clear he was proud of being king and wouldn't suffer anyone trying to take that power away from him. There was danger in his lithe body and the staff he carried. But there was a goodness, too. A goodness she didn't think was possible in a man who'd once tried to enslave Earth. A goodness she didn't know anyone else could see.

Maybe she was imagining it. No, _probably_ she was imagining it. But still, it kindled a tiny spark of hope in her chest, one she tried not to fan.

"What do you think?" Bruce asked, nodding to the projection of the man Darcy was maybe, possibly, sort of considering tying her entire life to.

"…He has potential," she said, with a shrug that sent her glasses tipping down her nose.

Across the table, Bruce's eyes lit up. A peaceful, warm smile crossed his broad face.

"See, that's why I knew you'd be perfect."

"Why?"

"Because you're the only person I know who stares at a black void in the night sky because she hopes one day she might see a star there instead."

* * *

**Writing Bruce and Darcy's dynamic was such fun! And next chapter Darcy gets to meet Loki! What do you think of the story so far? What do you think Loki and Darcy's first interaction will be like? I can't wait to read your thoughts in the reviews! **


	3. Chapter 3

Loki always believed that there was no out-tricking a trickster. But from the moment he stepped onto his new planet—Freygard—he knew he'd been had. It wasn't because the planet wasn't fertile and developed. It was. It wasn't because the planet was cold or intemperate. It wasn't. It wasn't even because he'd been left alone in his palace with a Queen who was _on her way_, as he'd been assured.

No, Freygard was perfectly pleasant. In fact, he couldn't have imagined a better place to have been given. The planet was divided by Capitals, each of which mimicked the look and feel of whatever large refugee population had settled there. With the use of Loki's magic and terraforming technology invented by a human race known as The Wakandans—Loki was as loathe to admit it as he was loathe to admit their help, but the humans _did_ have some fantastic technology—they formed the planet in the image of those who lived there, creating beauty out of what was once nothing.

Revival was the largest capital, and the one where his grand palace stood. It was a loose recreation of New York City—more parks and beauty, less sprawl and grime—intermingled with Asgardian elements. He should have loved it, should have been more than satisfied with his newfound power in a rich, fertile, prosperous land.

But something nettled him. Something hung over him, a dark, towering shadow over his reign that he simply couldn't shake.

The people weren't happy. In fact, they were miserable. Hopeless. Lost. And no matter what Loki did to try and rouse their spirits, the darkness wrapped around his planet like a security blanket.

And, strange as it was to admit, Loki, King of Freygard, did not want his subjects unhappy. A lying trickster god he may have been, but the emptiness in their eyes cut him to the core. After all, hadn't Captain America told him that these people needed a home? If he couldn't make them feel at home on this planet, then he'd failed his one true test.

His mind turned from the crowds settling into their new planet at the sound of stomping boots thwacking against the marble floor of the Grand Throne Room, where Loki now sat alone. Tarmin, a tall Deon with a shock of pink hair atop his gaunt head, approached, bowed, and presented his business.

"My King?"  
"Yes?"

Tarmin was the first member of Loki's court, chosen simply because he was the first person to come off of a refugee ship asking _What Can I Do To Help. _Loki liked the strange man, even with the religious robes and serene stare common of those on his planet.

"The human ship is approaching, but there's only one human life sign. Would you care to greet them on The Great Lawn?"

"What are the other two life signs?"

"One appears to be a cyborg of some sort and the other appears to be some kind of human-Kree."

A Human-Kree. Captain Marvel. No, Loki would not greet her. After all, this was his planet now. He could make the rules.

"Tell them I'll see my Queen alone."

"But your Majesty—"

One look from Loki was enough to silence the man altogether. He bowed deferentially, then took his leave.

"Of course. I'll see it done."

As the man left, Loki could not help but examine the sudden tightness of his chest. Surely—surely—he wasn't nervous to meet his future Queen…Was he?

* * *

Darcy was _totally_ freaking out. There was no way around it. She was sweaty palms, clammy hands, dizzy head, pounding heart nervous, and for the first time in her life, it _wasn't_ space sickness.

Now that they'd landed on Freygard, her fate was sealed. She'd be Loki's bride, his Queen, and she'd spend the rest of her days on this planet, trying to keep peace in the universe.

Oh, Goody. Just thinking about it made nervous bile rise up in her throat. What was the penalty for puking on a King's shoes on this planet?

At least Nebula, one of her two pilots on this little jaunt across the universe, was completely in control. She conducted a final, no-nonsense check as they waited for their Freygardian escort to meet them at the ship.

"Combat knives?" Nebula asked.

"Check," Darcy confirmed.

"Electromagnetic shield-cuff?"

"Check."

"Vibranium dagger?"

"Check."

"Knife-edge Hair-pins?"

"Check, check, and check," Darcy indicated the three star-shaped pins in her hair, a clever disguise for three additional weapons Nebula had armed her with.

"Poisoned Blow Darts?"

"Got 'em."

Nebula glanced up from the weapons dossier she'd composed, raising an eyebrow. "The knock-out _and_ poison variety?"

"Yep."

"And what about your boot knives?"

"Sharpened and deadly."

The tension in Nebula's lips softened slightly, coming the closest Darcy had ever seen to the woman smiling. "She's ready, Captain."

Darcy turned her attention to Carol Danvers, who lounged in the doorway of the ship's cockpit, surveying the spectacle before her with a half-smirk.

"I don't know that she is. I don't think you can ever be ready for something like this. You know what you're getting into, kiddo?"

"I mean," Darcy began, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of her nose. Maybe she would die at the hands of a murderous king tonight, but at least no one would accuse her of losing her sense of humor. "I'm being married off to a murderous, power-hungry God who may or may not kill me the moment he sees me. Does that about cover it?"

"Yep. Pretty much."

"Gee, thanks for the support."

At that sarcastic grumble, Captain Marvel allowed herself to slip the smallest of smiles in Darcy's direction, and for the first time since she agreed to this ridiculous plan, Darcy felt slightly better. Carol Danvers' smile was a confident one, and that confidence tripped through the air directly into Darcy's veins.

"Look," Carol said, leveling with Darcy. "I've dealt with Loki before."

"You have?"

"Yeah. He's been trying to take over various planets for years. I know how to kick his ass. Anyway, here's the thing." She glanced left, then right, as if checking the perimeter before offering up top-secret information. Nebula copied the move, her hand tightening on her weapon, clearly not quite getting that Carol was teasing. "He's a big softie."

"She means that he has soft-fiber tissue inside of his body," Nebula provided, her voice grave as a battlefield general's. She offered Darcy another knife. "Almost like a human. If you stab this between his breastbone and pull it down—"

"I'm not talking anatomy. I'm talking _emotionality_. The guy's an emotional wreck. Always has been. When you think he hates you, that's when he likes you the most."

Darcy rolled her eyes. "So, you're saying if he pulls my pigtails, that means he likes me?"

"No, it means he doesn't know how to feel good things, so he'll try to shut you out. He's done it to Thor a thousand times. It's his weakness. And now, you know how to exploit it." Carol shot a scolding glance in Nebula's direction before returning to the cockpit. "No knives required."

Nebula waited until Carol had disappeared before leaning up and whispering in Darcy's ear: "I put a few more knives in your bag."

"So, if this guy turns out to be a power-hungry war-lord bent on universal domination, you're going to do your glowing body thing and save me, right?" Darcy asked, shouldering the duffle bag stuffed with her only prized possessions.

"Sure, kid," Carol said, returning to the belly of the ship with a helmet tucked under her arm. "But I bet you can handle yourself. You seem like the self-saving kind of princess. Sorry, a self-saving kind of _Queen_."

Darcy would have laughed if she wasn't afraid that opening her mouth too wide would immediately cause her to throw up. When she'd agreed to this scheme, she had the best of intentions, but now that she was faced with the enormity of her task—marrying Loki and ruling an entire freaking _planet_—she couldn't help but feel a little bit terrified. And vomit-y.

Just at that moment, a figure appeared at the ship's loading bay doors. Tall and nearly skeletal, the pink-haired humanoid bowed, his long, flowy Jedi robes swishing around his slim body. Nebula, spooked by the intrusion, raised her weapons, only to lower them when Carol gently touched her arm.

"Lady Darcy of Earth. I am Tarmin. I bid you welcome on behalf of our king."

"Take us to him," Carol demanded, slipping her helmet on. She was in Captain Marvel mode now, and the flat lines of her voice sent shivers up Darcy's spine. She was glad the captain was on her side; she wouldn't have wanted the woman as an enemy.

"I…" Tarmin cleared his throat. Darcy watched his every movement closely. She decided she liked him, for what it was worth. He had kind eyes. Loki couldn't be _so_ terrible if he had someone like Tarmin in his corner, right? "I apologize, Captain Marvel. I have been instructed that Our Lady is meant to come alone."

The Captain shook her head once and started for the door. "She isn't going in there alone. Not the first time."

"No, it's fine."

Darcy heard herself speak the words before she even realized she _wanted_ to say them. It wasn't that the metric ton of steel knives and weapons Nebula had gifted her suddenly took away all of her terror, but there was something else…

She'd seen something in Loki. Something that he wouldn't dare show her in Captain Marvel's presence. No. If she wanted to get under her future husband's skin, if she wanted to find the real man behind the monster, if she wanted to see if he really _was _the big softie Carol said he was, then she'd have to do this alone.

The Captain pulled Darcy in close, lowering her voice to a whisper.

"Are you sure? A minute ago you looked ready to puke in your space boots."

"I know his weakness know. His heart. And besides, if getting on his good side doesn't work, I have enough knives to stab him into Valhalla." Straightening her spine and reshouldering her backpack, she turned back to Tarmin. "I'm ready when you are, chief."

Tarmin smiled, a sweet smile that almost made Darcy forget how freaking scary all of this was. He offered Darcy his arm, which she gratefully took. At least she'd have someone to catch her fall if she straight-up passed out from her nerves. "Come, My Lady. Our King is most eager to meet you."

* * *

When Tarmin once again appeared in the throne room, standing just inside the door to announce the arrival of Loki's newly arrived Queen, Loki did his very best to look exceptionally bored as he lounged upon his throne. It wouldn't for the woman—Darcy Lewis—to catch any hint of the way his heart sped against his breastplate or for her to deduce how the air electrified around him at the mere thought of her presence. With much pomp and ceremony, Tarmin waved his arm in a flourish towards the door.

"Your Majesty, I present—"

Pomp and circumstance died when Darcy, the human in question, let herself into the room, cutting off the fancy introduction. "Darcy Lewis. Of Earth."

Loki's breath caught in his throat. So far down the chamber from him, he couldn't see the particulars of her or truly behold her in any meaningful way, but still, his magic crackled at the sight of her. _His wife_. _His Queen_.

Gods, he needed to steady himself. It wouldn't _do_ for him to feel things for his wife. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he adopted the angry countenance of a cruel emperor, wondering just how cruel he would need to be to scare this little human off for good.

"So, you are the one The Avengers sent? A little human sacrifice to the big, bad monster?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Darcy said, her husky, lyrical voice dancing towards his ears. He had to wonder how her voice would sound when her lips wrapped around his whispered name. "You're a medium-sized monster at best."

"Leave us, Tarmin," Loki commanded.

"Sire—"

But it was Darcy who answered the protestation. She pointed to Loki in his entirety, from the gold staff he clutched in one hand to the gold horns crowning his head. He'd pulled out his full kingly regalia today, hoping that the sight of him would intimidate her. In fact, it had the opposite effect. She seemed to be…_teasing_ him. "It's okay. I can handle this walking Fort Knox reject."

With that dismissal, Tarmin left the room, leaving Loki and his new bride alone. It was easier to think of her as a bride, as a queen, because it meant he didn't have to think of her as _Darcy_. Darcy, whose files he'd been reading nonstop since The Avengers informed him of her arrival. Darcy, whose face featured in all of his dreams lately. Darcy, who would be his wife soon enough.

Darcy, who was now approaching him as if he were an old acquaintance instead of the monster mothers tell their children about at night. Her voice hung on the edge of a joke, halfway between laughter and severity.

"Nice place you've got here. Can I just put my bag anywhere? What's your name, by the way? Doesn't seem fair that you know mine if I don't know yours."

"I am King Loki of Freygard. Your _King_," he reminded her, his voice tight.

"My husband, you mean."

"Not yet. I haven't accepted you."

"Ooh, _accepted me_. How very _Game of Thrones_ of you, _your majesty_."

None of the files told him quite how sharp her wit was, or that he should have prepared to do verbal battle the moment he met her. But, strangely, her quiet challenges to his authority didn't fan flames of anger inside of him. Instead, it made his heart beat even faster, as if he were engaged in a particularly exhilarating swordfight.

He didn't want to look too closely into what that meant. Rising to his feet up on the throne dais, he towered above her, barely looking down the bridge of his nose at her.

"Choosing a consort is a heavy duty on a sovereign. I can't have just _anyone_ who was sent to me."

She narrowed her eyes slightly, cocked her head. The light from the wide windows of the throne room danced against her skin, reflecting an internal light he couldn't help but notice radiated from somewhere deep inside her.

He couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at him without a shred of fear in their gaze. Yet, there she stood, questioning him. Him, her future husband and king. He wanted to despise her for it, yet the more he searched his heart for that hatred, the less of it he found. Instead, he was intrigued. Especially when her lips quirked upward in a sinfully devastating smirk. "And what are you looking for? I want to make sure to give you the exact opposite."

No. He couldn't think of her as sinfully devastating. He didn't need to be thinking of her at all, at least not beyond the obvious. He returned to businesslike formality.

"I've read the file on you. Most of your qualifications are sufficient. You're incredibly intelligent, a student of politics and astrophysics. You have a reputation for levity and kindness. I'm sure the people will appreciate that. You are well read. You can hold a conversation. And from what I've observed so far, I will not be bored of you."

"So, what else is there to accept?"

"Come, Lady Darcy Lewis." He held out a hand in front of him, beckoning her closer. This was a power move, perhaps a cruel one, but she'd been keeping pace with him at every turn. He needed to regain the upper hand. "Let me behold you."

"Are you sure you can handle me?"

He didn't dignify that question with a response, but he _did_ circle around her back so she couldn't spy the way his lips quirked upwards in a smile. Slowly, he moved around her—too close, close enough that he could smell the flowers in her washed hair and she could no doubt feel his breath against the bare skin of her shoulders—surveying her and her body. It was meant to intimidate her, to convince her he only saw her as a physical object to be _beheld_, but he was the one moved by the gesture.

Her file contained several portraits and he'd always thought her beautiful. Striking. She had kind eyes and a warm smile and lips ripe for laughter. But here, in her presence, there was something carnal, something bold and hot that overtook him. Her tall, curvy body begged to be touched, just as her lips begged to be kissed.

Desire flowed through his veins at the sight of her. Another complication. To have vague fondness or interest in his wife was one thing, but to _want_ her…That was quite another.

"And what do you see, your kingliness?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"You will do," he sniffed, stuffing his true feelings on what he saw when he looked at her deep down inside of him. "Now—"

But she didn't wait for him to finish. Instead, she started moving around _him_, her eyes painting over his form. Suddenly, though fully clothed, he felt very naked indeed.

"What are you doing?" he choked.

"Beholding _you_."

Damn that smile of hers. It belonged in a museum. Damn her for causing a riot in his long-dead heart.

"That won't be necessary."

"No beholding, no Queen," she shrugged, then snarked: "Sorry, them's the rules."

"…Fine."

It was completely beneath his dignity, to stand in a puddle of late afternoon sunlight and let a woman, a fragile human woman at that, run her abrupt gaze up and down his body. But he held firm, unflinching, and allowed her the small courtesy.

"And what do you see, Lady Darcy?"

"You clean up okay. For a potential enslaver of all of humanity."

Ah, so behind her smiles, behind her teasing, beyond the trail of desirous fire she left in her wake whenever she so much as glanced at him, she _did_ still see him as a monster. His defenses immediately sprung back to life, their sharp edges swiping out in her direction.

"I'm sure The Avengers have informed you of the arrangement. If I accept you, you'll stay here as my Consort, ruling at my side, providing me with heirs. You may think of it as a business exchange, if you'd like. Unimaginable power and a throne in exchange for—"

"A human shield in case Thor ever tries to take you off the throne?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he said, with the easy smile of a liar who'd been caught in his own web. She was smarter than most; she'd seen through his rouse even when the Avengers hadn't.

"C'mon, Head Horns. You can be honest with me. We _are_ going to be married."

"As I understand it, the natural condition of a mortal marriage is one of lies."

"Not if you want a marriage with this mortal. So…" She trailed off, and then, she captured his eyes. They pierced him, staring deep into him as if she could someone glimpse his soul. How was it that a person without magic could be so bewitching? "What if I don't want a business transaction? What if I want a real marriage?"

The walls around his heart slammed into lockdown. Any light or warmth that he'd caught from her vanished. "Out of the question."

"Mortals need love. We need it or our little souls wither away into nothingness. You wouldn't want your subjects seeing you killing your Queen because you couldn't _stand_ to give her a little sugar, could you?"

His heart was beating too fast. His thoughts were running too fast. This mortal wanted his _love_. And what was worse…he found that it was something his own heart wanted, too.

Which meant he would have to cut her off all the more cruelly. He wouldn't awaken his dead heart, not for anyone.

"Listen," he hissed. "I asked for a biddable, pliable, compliant wife. And I got you. You want a marriage of love and unity? You have me. In this life, no one gets what they want. Not really. And I expect you to get used to that reality sooner rather than later."

With that, he left their closeness, heading straight for the door that would lead him to his chambers and far, far away from Darcy Lewis and the sunshine radiating from inside of her.

"Loki?"

He didn't acknowledge that she'd spoken, but apparently, she took the halting of his boots against the castle floor as a sign that he was listening.

"No one sent me. I'm not a sacrifice. I _chose_ to be here. I chose to be with you."

Loki stalked away, and Darcy knew that she should have shuddered at the cold wind he left in his storming wake. But instead, she smiled.

Captain Marvel had been right. The king's heart was his weakness.

And she didn't even need to draw one of her knives to find that out.

…Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

**So, that's chapter three! What did you think? Leave me a review with your favorite bit! (Personally, as much as I love Loki, writing Nebula was so much fun!) **


	4. Chapter 4

When Loki left Darcy behind in the Throne Room, he wasted no time dissolving his being into the great library in the North Tower. When he'd gone about constructing this palace for himself, it was one of the first places he'd built, a veritable temple to knowledge and study, a grand hall of learning Thor would have joyfully destroyed and created a trophy room of some kind in its place.

Darkness crept uncomfortably at the edges of Loki's mind, tugging and pulling him back. Thanos' cold, familiar grip on his mind threatened, whispering cruel nothings in his ear. _Kill the girl. Turn your planet into an army. Destroy The Avengers_. Yes, he'd given up the Tesseract and forfeited his powers over the universe, but Thanos had been exerting his influence over him during his attempted takeover of Earth. That control was difficult to shake, even across space and time. Thanos was searching for him, trying to find him. Loki had to make sure that never happened again. If Thanos knew he'd been defeated in this timeline, if Thanos knew Loki had escaped to a time after his defeat…There was no telling to what length he'd go in order to change it.

Loki lashed out against the incursion with his magic, hoping that the physical tethering to this world would keep the monster in his skull at bay. A bolt of lightning from his palm destroyed a nearby vase. Then, a marble bust of Egill. A crystal orb. The outer three planets of a planetary mobile hanging from the intricately designed ceiling above him.

He was just about to go for a stain-glass window when a calm, dry voice from behind him broke the spell.

"So," Tarmin intoned. "I take it our first meeting with the Queen went decidedly less well than expected."

"Don't call her that."

"Don't call her Queen? Do you plan to refuse her then?"

Dropping his aiming hand from the tiny planet of Pluto hanging overhead and sparing it from destruction, Loki's gut spoke for him before logic could even caution him about such a brazen display of interest in Miss Darcy Lewis. "What? Refuse her? No, of course not."

"Then why shouldn't I call her Queen?"

Loki was pacing now, taking long strides across the room and punctuating every other step with a _thwack_ of his staff against the stone floor beneath him. Now that he'd shaken the cold press of Thanos' mental invasion, he couldn't help but turn his attention to the woman The Avengers had sent him as a Queen. What a double-edged sword of a gift. Just like they'd given him a planet to rule filled with problems, they'd give him a beautiful, intelligent wife with all the complexity and heart he didn't have the strength of spirit to unravel. "She's impulsive and willful and uncouth and nothing like what a Queen should be. Nothing like what I expected. Nothing like what I wanted."

"I see." Tarmin bowed his head, his long, pink hair dusting the tops of his somber religious robes. "I'll go and have her things packed."

"I didn't say I wanted her to go."

"Ah. So, you find her agreeable?"

Tarmin was clearly fishing for something, something Loki wouldn't give him. _Excitement_. While the rest of the castle—and, indeed, most of Freygard—was over-the-moon about the arrival of their new queen (also known as the worst kept secret on the planet), Loki couldn't allow himself to be excited. He had to be practical, had to be calculating.

And, if he was being honest, he also had to be more than a bit prideful. The little human woman had already gotten under his skin and it seemed that she was stuck there. None of his defenses against her were working.

"I _find_ _her_ confusing. Utterly baffling. Who is _she_ to challenge me?"

"Oh. _That's_ why you don't want me to call her queen."

Halting his paces, Loki tightened his grip around his staff, which glinted an intimidating gold even in the low firelight. "I beg your pardon?"

"Because if I call her queen, it will remind you that she is the only person here who _can_ challenge you. I can see your dilemma. Quite a puzzle. May I offer a suggestion?"

"…You may," Loki agreed, mostly to get the other man to shut up. Dropping into a nearby chair, he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand and tried to maintain his composure. His father or Thor may have been too foolhardy and arrogant to listen to counsel, but he wasn't going to be like them. Never.

"Perhaps you could get to know her."

"I will do no such thing. This isn't a love match and it certainly isn't going to become one."

The temptation was there. Darcy had sparked his interest—physically, emotionally, and intellectually—but that was all the more reason to keep her at arms' length, to focus on the ways she'd insulted him with her dry wit and her insolence rather than all the ways she'd intrigued him.

"No one said anything about love. I wouldn't dream of suggesting that. But if she is to eventually become your queen, she could prove a strong ally. You have to know that if it came to war, The Avengers would choose her over you. Perhaps showing an interest in her, bringing her over to your side, could prevent that from ever happening. If her allegiance is to you rather than to them…"

Loki's mind traveled along the path Tarmin set out. "Freygard would be mine forever."

"Precisely."

"Your counsel is wise, Tarmin. I will take it under advisement."

Again, something his father and his brother would never do. But he was determined to be a good king, no matter what it cost him in pride. Rising from his chair near the fireplace, he let his mind race with possibilities. No, he would not allow himself to like Miss Darcy Lewis, and he certainly couldn't love her. But an alliance? Yes. He could do with an ally in this big, lonely universe.

"May I ask one more question, though, Your Majesty?" Tarmin asked, just as Loki was about to transfer his being to another wing of the castle.

"Yes?"

"You said she's willful and impulsive and nothing like a Queen. What, then, _would_ you have a Queen be like?"

An answer danced on the tip of Loki's tongue, but he bit it back. There was no use telling Tarmin that Darcy Lewis was, despite all of his protestations, the only kind of Queen he ever could have wanted.

* * *

This place was straight-up weird. Darcy had seen some weird-ass stuff in the time since Thor had accidentally dropped into her life and started dating her boss, but this…This place really took the cake. Freygard was a strange Asgard-New York City hybrid, which meant that everywhere Darcy looked out of the palace windows, horse-drawn carriages competed alongside cars for parking spots while falafel makers traded easy conversation with the _surströmning _makers next door. There weren't nearly as many people out there on the streets as in the real New York City, but the city's energy called to Darcy and she wanted nothing more than to don a reliable hoodie and plunge right into the crowds.

But, that was the thing about being a Queen. Apparently, she didn't get to do what she wanted anymore. No sooner had Loki stormed out of their first meeting than she was escorted to her _chambers_, her silent guards not helping the growing anxiety within her.

Her chambers—a bedroom, a sitting room and a bathing suite (complete with modern Earthly toilet facilities, thank _God_)—were just as weird as anything else. She'd spent most of her upbringing in a tiny apartment sharing a pull-out sofa bed with her night-shift waitress of a mom. She wasn't used to a whole bed to herself, much less a whole room. Even after The Snap, she'd taken roommates even when she didn't have to, just so she knew she was never quite sleeping alone.

Stranger than a room to herself, though, was the ornately attired woman waiting in the window of the gold-and-green decorated sitting room, tinkering away with a small handheld mechanical device as serenely and coolly as a woman doing needlepoint. As soon as Darcy fully entered the room and the guards disappeared, she stood and bobbed in a curtsey. Her dresses and braids weren't Asgardian—even Darcy, with barely any eye for fashion, could tell that there were small mechanical fibers woven into the dress, and that the hair style was nothing like what Lady Sif would have worn, too intricate and tight—but she had a warm, cautiously optimistic smile that almost made Darcy feel at home.

"Greetings, My Lady," she clipped.  
"My…" Darcy searched for a word to finish that sentence but realized she didn't know the first thing about talking to other members of the royal household. Instead, she dropped her bag with a _thunk_ and offered her hand. "Greetings, my…uh…stranger. I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Elvera of Krylor." The woman winced and a blush colored her cheeks, nearly as red as her fiery hair. "Sorry. Of _Freygard_. I'm not of Krylor anymore. That's going to take some getting used to."

"Yeah. Tell me about it."

Elvera's eyebrows knitted. "Are you not happy to be here?"

"Are _you_? Who manipulated _you_ into coming here?"

Bitterness seeped into Darcy's tone for the first time since she'd agreed to take on this mission. For awhile now, she'd thought she could gain the upper hand. After all, she knew Loki's weakness. But knowing his weakness didn't mean he'd give her a chance to exploit it. And even if she did manage to get one over on him and make him feel something for her…she was still stuck on this planet. She had totally upended her own life on the vague hope that she might get to actually help some people.

A total Darcy move. Impulsive. Thoughtless. Completely based on emotion.

"Manipulated me?" Elvera released a tittering laugh, musical in nature. She was a few years older than Darcy, maybe Jane's age, but she spoke with a kind of ancient, knowing wisdom that Darcy had only really seen in members of Thor's posse. She was a Krylorian Mary Poppins, all business and warmth in equal measures. Setting aside the tiny bit of tech and the even smaller screwdriver thingy she'd been working with, Elvera reached down for Darcy's bag and began the small business of unpacking the small collection of items. "Oh, Lady Darcy, no one had to do that."

"So, I guess you're a refugee, huh?"

"No. Krylor was rich in technologies and resources. We were once a cloistered, private race, but after the return of those taken by Thanos, we saw it as our duty to spread out amongst the galaxy and try to help those who needed us most. I am part of a small delegation who chose Freygard as our new home."

The woman had been nothing but kind. Still, Darcy felt small in her presence. This woman was from a superior alien planet, a kind of Vulcan Mary Poppins. She was beautiful. She was kind. And she'd _chosen_ to come here. How could Darcy compete with that?

"Why aren't you Queen, then? You'd be much better at it than me."

Another musical laugh, this time as if Darcy had told an exceptionally funny joke. "I doubt that very much."

"Why?"

"Because _I_ was the one who developed the original algorithm to determine the perfect Queen for our new King. I _know_ you're perfect for this task. The math doesn't lie. And neither do dozens of seers of the future."

What Darcy wouldn't give for a seer of the future to show her the truth. They all seemed pretty sure Loki wasn't going to smite her with his magical staff or turn into a snake and poison her with his fangs, but she would feel better about it if she could see it with her own two eyes. Hell, at this point she'd take one of those Times Square fortune tellers or an old-school cootie catcher or a friggin' Magic Eight Ball, so long as it gave her some hint of what lay ahead of her. "I wish I had your confidence."

"And I wish I had your bone structure. But we can't all get what we want, can we?" Elvera laid out several of Darcy's personal effects with care—a small stack of her favorite books, a collection of buttons with kitschy, catchy sayings on them, her favorite red beanie, a backup pair of glasses just in case they didn't have opticians in space. "Now, I'm here to help you acclimate to your new life and be your counselor. Your friend, if you'd like."

"I would like. I'd like very much. I was worried about getting lonely up here."

"I'll make sure that doesn't happen. I like you already."

Darcy didn't know the first thing about being a Queen, but she did know about being a friend. It was a relief to know that with at least _one_ person on this planet, she could just be one.

"So, if you developed the algorithm, you know Loki, don't you?"

"I knew a version of him," Elvera said, clearing picking through her words carefully. "The man currently ruling Freygard isn't that version, but the Loki I knew is buried deep inside of this one. I believe he just needs the right encouragement to find his humanity."

Darcy slammed back in her chair, shaking her head. "Damn it."

"Damn it?" Elvera's tongue tripped over the unfamiliar words. "What is _damn it_?"

"Captain Marvel told me the same thing. I was hoping you were going to disagree with her."

If everyone was so sure the way to Loki's soft side was straight through his heart, then she had quite a bit of work ahead of her. Just as Carole Danvers had said, every time she thought she'd gotten close, he shied away or lashed out at her. Sure, she thought she'd captured glimpses of his humanity through his shields, but was that enough?

Elvera crossed the room to an intricately carved door, which she opened with a press of her fingertips to reveal a rotating closet of hybrid Asgardian-Human fashions. Darcy would have dropped her jaw and sprinted to the new wardrobe if Elvera's next words hadn't thrown her for a fresh loop.

"The King has set out a dinner for the two of you in the library of the North Tower. Shall I ready a dress for you or should you prefer to choose one yourself?"

"Did the invitation get lost in the mail?" Darcy snarked, only halfway joking. After so long on her own after The Snap, she wasn't used to much company at all, much less company that ordered her around.

Elvera winced. "I don't think it was an invitation."

"Really?"

"Yes, my lady. Really."

For a moment, Darcy considered her options. She could be the biddable bride he'd asked for, bowing and scraping for his approval, or she could have some self-respect and demand he give her some, too. It was a risky gamble, but one she had to take.

Besides, if a little bit of harmless flirting had gotten under his skin during their first meeting, surely refusing his dinner "invitation" would be even more revealing.

"Okay," Darcy said, sinking deeper into her overstuffed cushions and reaching for her fading copy of _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_.

Elvera visibly swallowed. Apparently her algorithm hadn't predicted this. "Okay…_What_?"

"Okay, I'll wait in here until he actually _asks_ me to dinner."

"Loki does not ask anyone anything," she said, her smile slight and tighter than it had been before. "You will be waiting a long time."

"That's the idea, Elvera. If _I'm_ waiting, then so is he."

"But the King—"

"I'm not going to be treated like dirt in my own house or in my own marriage. You know what?" Darcy snapped the book closed and tossed it onto a nearby cushion. Linking her arm through Elvera's, she decided then and there that if she and Loki were going to be married, there would _have_ to be some changes around here. "Come on. Show me where the kitchens are."

"Why?"

"Because I'm hungry. And I'm not going to starve just because our most high, exalted, golden reindeer of a King doesn't have any manners."

Together, they left the Queenly chambers, and Elvera's voice took on a quiet, anxious, hush.

"Loki is not used to having his orders disobeyed."

"Then maybe that's why he's having a humanity problem. Maybe he needs to be reminded that other people have feelings, too."

* * *

Loki was not used to having his orders disobeyed. Loki was not used to being kept waiting. Loki was not used to sitting alone at his own damn dinner table, waiting for a frail, tiny, insignificant human to _deign_ to share a meal with him.

He was also not used to trying so hard. Per Tarmin's advice, he'd composed this dinner in order to create something of a peace accord between he and Miss Darcy Lewis. Not only had he dressed in his finest regalia—the kind of tight-fitting, dark, tailored clothes he was under the impression women liked, accented with his signature greens and golds—but he'd put thought and effort into the menu, the music, even the table setting.

And still, she wasn't there.

"Where is she?" Loki said, toying with the knife resting at the edge of his place setting.

"I'm sure she's getting ready, sire," Tarmin assured him. "You can relax."

A nearby window gave Loki a perfect view of the stars and the planet's twin moons—and of the broad, palace courtyard below. "What if something's happened to her? Could there be saboteurs in my own castle?"

"With all of the magical protection you have over this place, not to mention the entire planet? I doubt it."

"Then why hasn't she come?"

"I don't know. I'll ring for Elvera."

No. He would not have his future wife _fetched_. How demeaning for them both. No, if something was wrong, he would be the one to discover it and make it right, not Elvera or Tarmin.

"Never mind. I'll find her myself."

Ten minutes later, he'd followed strange smells down to the kitchens, located in the basement of the castle, and found her, sitting as casually as could be, at a small servants' table, eating some strange human food. When he approached, she didn't flinch or shy away as many others in her place would have. On the contrary, she barely even seemed to register the anger rolling off of him in waves as she helped herself to another bite of the intoxicatingly scented food.

"What are you doing?" he nearly choked.

"Eating dinner. Taco?"

"Absolutely not."

"Geez. No reason to be so harsh. I mean, you don't have tortillas so I had to improvise with this weird flatbread thing that I found in the pantry, but it's not terrible—"

A new and unfamiliar sensation welled up in Loki's long-dead heart: hurt. The invisible wounds crowding his chest began to leak blood. With this meal, he'd tried (as best as he knew how) to make himself vulnerable. Inviting a woman to dine with him was more than he'd done in nearly a century. He wasn't used to _wanting_ someone to converse with or wanting someone's approval. Rare was the day when he allowed himself the risk of caring what anyone else thought about him. But he had tried with Darcy, which made her rejection all the more painful.

Pain that he channeled into anger, which he focused directly upon her and barely managed to conceal as he spoke through gritted teeth.

"You were to dine with me."

"Really?" she asked, popping a grilled pepper into her mouth. So easy, as if he weren't a monster who could destroy her with one angry outburst. She was either exceptionally stupid or exceptionally brave, and he feared she was the latter. "No one asked me."

"I do _not_ have to ask," he replied, lowering his voice to a defensive growl. "For _anything_."

He'd expected her to cower then. Instead, she raised her challenging eyes to his, unflinching.

"I'd like to see you try and make me."

That gaze of her would be the end of him, wouldn't it? Here, in the warm light of the kitchens, with the flickering fireplace roaring and filling the small space between them with heat, he could nearly count the flecks of gold highlighting her green, jewel-tone eyes.

If he'd been the kind to believe in cosmic plans—at least the kind that he couldn't fool or subvert—he would have almost taken those eyes as a symbol that she was made for him. But he couldn't allow that.

Just as he couldn't allow her to rule over him. Not his mind, not his dead heart, and certainly not his body.

But that was proving damnably difficult, considering that his entire body lit aflame with that fiery look of hers, with those plump, tantalizing lips curving around her daring words, with the heat raging in the air between them. He swallowed, hard, but the sensation did not go away.

He _wanted_ Darcy Lewis.

The wanting shouldn't have surprised him, but still, it took nearly a full second before he wrangled his desire into submission and returned to the task at hand. Careful with her mortal frame, he let his magic weave its way around her body, feeling the contours of her curvaceous form as he allowed the strands of power pull her from her chair and draw her across the room until she levitated just before him, so they were now eye-to-eye.

Bringing her so close was meant to be a power move, to remind her that _she_ was a weak human and _he_ the immortal god with all of the universe's magic at his fingertips, magic that could make life miserable for her if he was so inclined. It was meant to force her to bend to his will, to recognize that she would bow just like everyone else.

If that was the case, then why did she look as if she'd just won a grand victory? And why was his heart slamming against his chest as if he'd just been captured by an enemy?

"Is that proof enough?" he asked, his magic impulsively drawing her even closer. Her breath danced on his lips, a painful tease that knotted his stomach with desire.

"Proof that you're terrified of me? So scared that you have to control me? Yes."

Impossible woman. Releasing his magical hold, he dropped her back to the stone flooring. When she'd regained her full balance, he cleared his throat, straightened, and attempted to adopt the posture of a king once more.

"You will join me for dinner."

She folded her arms across her chest. "Ask me nicely and I'll consider it."

She wanted to be asked? Fine. But he didn't have to enjoy it. Rolling his eyes, he extended his hands at the end of a flourishing bow and let sarcasm drip like honey off of his every word. "Will you _please_ do me the _great honor_ of joining me for dinner?"

"Nope. Sorry. Filled up on tacos. Try again tomorrow."

And just like that, she was gone, disappearing in a lingering wind of flowered perfume. For a long moment, Loki stared at the place where she'd just been, trying to harness the mess of feelings clouding his mind into something coherent. The woman had challenged him and denied him and awakened a lifetime of forgotten emotions.

The nerve of her.

And the nerve of Tarmin, who entered through the servants' doorway. The damn man had been listening at key holes the entire time. Loki's bluster could no longer be contained and Tarmin was there to counter everything he said with a knowing nod.

"Of all the infuriating—"

"_Endearing_."

"Prideful—"

"_Confident_."

"Distracting—"

"_Beautiful_?"

Beautiful. That word stopped him in his tracks. Yes. She was beautiful. And that was the problem. She was light and warmth and beauty, all of the things he couldn't allow himself to go near.

"I should follow her," Loki resolved, heading for the door. "I should _make_ her—"

But Tarmin placed a gentle hand on the door, holding it closed and preventing Loki from dragging the human back to dinner. "I thought we'd discussed making her an ally. Right now you're very close to making a new enemy."

"I can't fix this. I can't fix her. I need a _Queen_, not a—"

"Friend? Wife? Partner? …Lover?"

Instead of acknowledging the way his blood raced at the word _lover_, Loki shot a withering stare at his advisor. "You are driving a flock of horses along thin ice, Tarmin. Counsel me or I shall find a new counselor."

"You are one of the wisest and most cunning creatures in the universe." Tarmin said, a sigh punctuating his compliment. "I should not have to tell you that being _kind_ to the girl and getting to know her will help her grow to like you. And perhaps you would grow to like _her_. Maybe this could be more than a marriage of convenience."

Kindness? Love? Her loving him in return? No. Impossible. _Dangerous_ and impossible.

"There is a darkness in me, Tarmin. A darkness I cannot wish upon her. Even if I did want her to be my…" _Friend, wife, partner, lover._ His mind tripped over those words. He had been so lonely for so long; he craved a friend, a wife, a partner, a lover. But he couldn't have them. It would be wrong. "Even if I did want her to be more than a Queen, I couldn't allow it."

"What darkness?"

A lie would have been easy. Even telling part of the truth—that his life had been scarred by betrayal at the hands of those he loved, like his family, and therefore he could never open himself up to love again—would have been easy. Loki chose not to take the easy path. He chose to tell the brutal, honest truth.

"Before I joined this timeline, I knew Thanos. He was inside my mind, occupying me like a thing that he could…" Loki swallowed, trying to maintain his dignity. A difficult task given the violation. With Thanos, he'd traded his soul, his humanity, for a chance at being loved and adored and bowed to. To become a better ruler than his father and his brother. To rewrite his own story. Even now, with Thanos defeated in this timeline and his own future in the palm of his hand, he was paying the price for that wish. "At times…I can still feel him near me. Like he's threatening to try again and use me. If I allow Miss Lewis too close…I'm only bringing her nearer to danger, to darkness. I've made a vow, as King, to keep the people of this planet safe and that _includes_ Miss Lewis. I have to protect them. And I will."

He could tell himself it was all about his pride, that he pushed her away because she threatened everything that made him a King, but that wasn't true. No. He was holding her at arm's length because allowing her closer than that would only put her in immense danger. Danger that he couldn't save her from, because the danger lived within him.

He no longer had any desire to be a monster. But he would be one if it meant keeping Darcy safe. If it meant she no longer tried to be close to him. An ally, he could handle. But a love? That was an impossibility.

Tarmin considered this for a long moment, when the only sound filling the air was the crackling of the nearby fireplace.

"May I make another suggestion?"

"Is it that I should have a stiff drink?"

A small smile from the counselor. "No. My suggestion is this: if the darkness is closing in on you...have you considered crawling closer to the light?"

* * *

**Here we are, chapter four! Please leave me a review and let me know what you think of this chapter! **

**Thank you all for the absolutely INCREDIBLE response to the last three chapters! My heart is so full and I'm so glad to have found such an amazing group of Tasertricks fans! I'm having so much fun writing this story and love sharing it with y'all. **

**Also, I have a question! This chapter was a little longer than the others. Do you prefer shorter chapters or longer ones? Like, I could have cut this chapter in two and given you two 2,000 word chapters and posted them a few days apart, but instead I put it all out there at once. Let me know in the comments if you like this length or something shorter so I can make sure to tailor your reader experience in the future! **


	5. Chapter 5

After their encounter in the kitchens, Darcy couldn't stop thinking about ways to get under Loki's skin. Similarly, she couldn't stop thinking of all the things she would do if she were out of this castle. Unfortunately, Loki didn't give her the chance to test any of her theories or speculation or plots, because she hadn't seen hide nor hair of him in three days and she was pretty much under the impression that she couldn't leave the castle without his permission.

He hadn't said as much, but she didn't want to test the guy who'd almost enslaved humanity, no matter how much of a big softie she suspected he was on the inside. On the off chance she was wrong, she didn't want to end up entranced into servitude for the rest of her days.

It had been nice to have Elvera as a friend, sure, and she was glad she wasn't entirely alone on this planet, but for a woman who could (apparently) reliably predict the future, she sure was being tight-lipped and secretive about everything, leaving Darcy no choice but to use the small device Bruce had given her as a going-away present to communicate with him.

She'd first called because she was bored. But before she knew it…she was full-on venting to a half-man, half-hulk, full hologram, who nodded appreciatively and _mm_-_hmed_ at all the right moments.

"—and it's not like there's much for me to do here. I mean, I'm not here to be his therapist or make him feel like giving a crap about people! I was supposed to come here and do good! You promised an astrophysics lab and I haven't seen so much as a friggin' telescope!"

"…Do you want me to come and rescue you?"

"No," Darcy said, immediately, her chest still heaving from the semi-frantic rant she'd just been squawking.

"Why? Afraid he'll go crazy and try to destroy Earth?"

Now that was a question she didn't want to answer. Or maybe one she wasn't sure she knew how to answer. If the Avengers were willing to protect her if she ran away, why wasn't she high-tailing in the direction of the next habitable planet? She stared at her hands, picking at the last of her chipping nail polish. She didn't want to admit—not to Bruce, not to Elvera, not to anyone—that she wanted to be here. Yeah, she was going stir-crazy, but she saw such potential in this planet…and in its king. She couldn't turn her back on them now.

"No. Nothing like that."

"Has he hurt you?"

"Bruce. Come on. No. Of _course_ he hasn't hurt me."

"Well, Darcy," Bruce said, with a big shove of his shoulders. Then, he pulled his glasses off of the rim of his oversized nose. Oh, no. Darcy knew that look. It was time for some tough love. "If you're bored then I suggest you get out of the castle and actually do something about it. Go for a walk. Go meet your people. Go to the movies, for god's sake. Just get out of there and actually do something."

Darcy took a long, deep breath before nodding. She wanted to show Loki she was a badass who could stand up for herself and who wouldn't be intimidated. What better way then just waltzing out of their castle? "You're right. I mean, if I'm going to be Queen, then I should meet the people I'm going to rule."

"Exactly. And remember, if you ever need anything at all, if you're ever worried—"

"I have you and Captain Marvel on speed-dial. I know."

Bruce's smile warmed her heart, and reminded her that even the monsters of the universe occasionally turned out good. It meant there was hope after all for Loki. "Take care of yourself, Darce."

"I will."

And just like that, Bruce ended the call, cutting off Darcy's connection to Earth and everyone she knew before coming here. Ideas ran through her head, one after the other, in a dizzying pattern of choice. She was a Queen. Or, she was going to be one soon enough, if everything went according to plan. What was keeping her from running into Loki's quarters buck-naked or smashing up the precious artifacts lining his halls or demanding that he speak to her and actually acknowledge her existence? What was keeping her from unloading the bottom drawer of her wardrobe, where she'd stashed all of the knives Nebula had given her, and finding someone to teach her how to properly fight?

Or, maybe more importantly, what was keeping her from just walking out of the doors of this palace?

Nothing. The answer was nothing. Nothing but herself. Leaving her bedroom behind, she walked into the adjoining sitting room, where Elvera was still hard at work on another one of her mechanical doohickies. She always seemed to be fiddling with something, but Darcy never had the heart to ask what. After all, she was _barely_ an astrophysicist, having spent most of her college years in political science. She didn't have anywhere near the expertise it would take to ask any kind of real questions about the device. Instead, she asked the one question she did have business addressing.

"Elvera?" The woman in question looked up, giving Darcy all of her attention. That wasn't something Darcy was used to; on Earth, most people either rolled their eyes at her or ignored her altogether. She fidgeted under the pressure of that stare. "Do you think it's weird that Loki hasn't, you know, let me meet any of the people here?"

"I don't think it's a question of letting you. If you want to go out, then by all means. Let's go." Elvera returned to her work, tightening a spring with a small wrench. "It's just that…Well, I think Loki, whether or not he wants to admit it, even to himself, feels a kind of responsibility to the people who have come here. We are all broken in our own way, and perhaps Loki sees himself in all of us. If something were to happen to you out there, I don't know that he would be able to cope with the guilt."

"What would happen to me out there?" Darcy said, caught somewhere between fear and skepticism.

"Nothing, I'm sure. You might get a sore hand from people shaking it too hard, but nothing else besides that. But Loki has been through much, seen much. I'm sure he can imagine quite terrible, if quite unlikely, things happening."

Darcy's feet led her towards one of the wide windows lining the Eastern walls of her chamber; they faced out over the city, which now beamed with sunlight. Idly, she toyed with the golden tassles dancing along the edge of the curtains, letting the silk run between her fingers. She thought about monsters becoming men, about her small armory in the bottom of her wardrobe, their last encounter and the silence that followed it. An idea sprung into her mind. "If I went, do you think he would follow me?"

Elvera's lips twitched upward, a gesture almost too small for Darcy to see in her window reflection. "There's only one way to find out."

* * *

Loki had been avoiding her. It really couldn't be helped. Every time he tried, every time he approached her room with the full intention of knocking and making himself known, he'd vanish again, disappearing into fine smoke and retreating into his library or his study so she wouldn't even suspect he'd ever been standing there at all.

She was the light that he should be crawling to, and yet every time he got close, he felt himself slipping further and further away.

But today? No. Today would be different. He'd make sure of that. Today, he was going to speak to her, going to hold a real conversation, going to find some common ground and meet her upon it.

That is…If he could find her. He'd tried her quarters first, knocking again and again until he realized his knocks were only echoing through an empty room. Then, he'd scoured the hallways, the gardens, the kitchens…She wasn't anywhere to be found.

"Tarmin?" Loki asked, striding into The Great Hall, where the man was taking measurements for future feasts.

"Yes, sire?"

"Where is Lady Darcy?"

"May I ask why you'd like to know?"

Loki raised an imperious eyebrow. Darcy's impertinence was spreading around the castle, it seemed. "You're questioning your king?"

"Only curious why the king is interested in the whereabouts of a 'pathetic human.' That's all."

There would be no answering his implicit question without explicitly saying that he wanted to make up for the ground they'd lost during their disastrous almost-dinner, so he deftly avoided any kind of direct answer. Loki sighed and raised a folded-up square of broadsheet, which had been tucked under his arm during most of his search.

It was his excuse for seeking her out. Not his reason. His reason was because, well, he wanted to see her again.

"A local newspaper has written a story about a human-born chef attempting Asgardian-Earthly fusion cuisine. After her experiment with the _tacos_," he said, stressing the word as if he couldn't believe it was coming out of his own mouth (which really, he couldn't). Still, he fought to keep his voice detached and professional, the way he assumed a King would speak to an inferior about his consort. No sense in giving Tarmin any _more_ ideas about his relationship with Miss Darcy Lewis. "I thought perhaps it might interest her. Now, do you know where she is, or not?"

"You have a way of divining that," Tarmin said, referring to Loki's magic and the crystal orb that sat beside his desk, which would show him any person he wished to see. "Why are you asking me?"

If Loki had been a normal man, heat would have flowed to the tops of his ears. A few days ago, he'd had a dream about using the orb to find Darcy, only for the orb to show her in a very compromising position in the shower. It had only been a dream, of course, but still, the memory _felt_ real enough, and so he vowed never to use it to locate her whereabouts…just in case. "I shouldn't like to intrude upon her privacy."

"She left with Elvera hours ago. She said she wanted to meet some of her future subjects."

"…She left the grounds? Or just the palace?"

"She went to the outer edges of the city, where the new settlements are."

Just what Loki had been afraid of. With those few, simple words, fire filled his veins while ice threatened the muscle hammering on the left side of his chest. Fury and fear fought for dominance within him, and he wasn't sure which one would win out. He approached Tarmin, pinning the man to the nearby wall.

"And you just let her go? Are you mad? Anything could happen to her out there."

"Master," Tarmin said, his voice shaking for the first time since coming to Freygard. "You…you have put more protective spells out there—"

"But none upon her! Why didn't you alert me the _moment_ she told you she was leaving?"

Loki was showing his hand, showing Tarmin just how much he already worried about this little human who'd invaded his world. Anything could happen to her out there. Thanos could rip through the universes separating them and steal her away. Some other planet could rip her away and use her as leverage against him and The Avengers. Even a planet he protected could be in danger from the darkness out there, lurking in the distance.

He fought for control—control of his magic, of his heart, of his breath, of his thundering voice. Control he had no chance of winning back. At least, not until Tarmin regained his strength, looked Loki in the eye, and spoke with all the authority of the Ancients.

"Because she's not a prisoner, sire. And you are not her keeper."

It was the closest thing to a reprimand that anyone had dared to give Loki in years. Even his own brother usually softened the blows of his disappointment, but Tarmin didn't. Slowly, the emotion seeped from Loki's body. Darcy wasn't his to control, wasn't his to shepherd or steer.

If he cared about her—even if he could only care about her in secret—then he had to respect her free will. Even if that meant she scared the living Hells out of him.

"Of course. Of course, you're right."

Loki left Tarmin without an apology, though he knew the man deserved one. Instead, he crept up to his study and retrieved The Orb, whispering magic and Darcy's name into the swirling grey matter inside.

In a flash of light, The Orb projected a hazy image of Darcy. But she wasn't alone. Oh, no. She had a group of children surrounding her, all screaming out a chant as she clumsily jumped rope to their little rhyming game. Her cheeks flushed with pink. Her eyes danced. Her laughter was more genuine than he'd ever heard before, so sweet it almost hurt him to listen to.

Would he ever know how to make her laugh that way? Did he even know where to begin trying?

The children pressed close to her, clearly loving every minute of her attention. A few steps away, though, a crowd moved in, a crowd of adults whose intentions were unclear. They could be simply watching the children and their future Queen…Or there could be an assassin, a saboteur, in their midst.

Fear tightened around his shoulders. He wouldn't allow that. No matter what she thought of him, no matter her impertinence or clear attempts to wind her way beneath his skin, he would let no harm come to her. He dismissed the image, vowing never to use The Orb again, and used his magic to call out to his advisor.

"Tarmin…would you be so good as to send a small detachment of soldiers to guard Miss Lewis? It would put my mind at ease."

* * *

Darcy couldn't remember the last time she'd had this much fun. Last Christmas? No, she'd been alone last Christmas because of The Snap, watching _Muppet Christmas Carol_ on loop and crying into mug after mug of cheap mulled wine. What about her birthday? No, again, she'd been alone, crying into a birthday cake.

Come to think of it, the last five years or so were totally out. She'd spent most of the last five years crying into alcohol or baked goods.

So, standing in the middle of a small square on the edges of the city, surrounded by the refugees who'd just begun to make their home here, was the most fun she'd had in at least five years. Apparently, her name and picture had gotten out there somehow (probably Tarmin, if she had to guess), so no sooner had she arrived than people started to trickle out of their homes. At first, the parents had been hesitant, so it was mostly children—children of all description: green-skinned girls with pigtailed braids and sickly little half-fish boys with no hair at all, Earthlings wearing ragged _Fornight_ t-shirts and alien children wearing special suits to shield them from the sun—who came to hang out with her first.

She didn't mind that. She was pretty good with children. Much better with kids than with adults anyway. What had started as games of _Knliaash_—a game almost like hopscotch except that instead of throwing stones, you threw small explosives that would give you a nasty shock if you slipped during the game—and jump-rope, eventually turned into her sitting on the edge of a fountain, talking to anyone who came near her.

They all began with bowing, which was _adorable_ in the children and simply petrifying in the adults. Darcy didn't know how to be a Queen. But she did know how to talk to children, especially tiny, green-skinned girls who were so nervous her parents had to practically push her to the front of the receiving line.

"And what's your name, kid?"

"Alvilda."

The little girl barely managed to mumble the word, but Darcy heard it loud and clear. She watched as the poor child clung to her stuffy, a small, raggedy animal that would have looked like a rabbit had it not had a bear's snout and lime green everywhere an Earthly rabbit would have been pink.

"Alvilda. That's a very pretty name. So, what do you think? Do you like it here on Freygard?"

Lightning blue eyes darted to her parents, who nodded the stammering creature into answering. "Very much. I still miss home, but it's nice here, your Majesty."

Darcy couldn't help but smile at that. Finally, someone who understood exactly where she was coming from. Leaning in close, she placed a tender hand on the little girl's shoulder, lowering her voice so that no one else could hear. "Can I tell you a secret, Alvilda?"

"Mm-hm?"

"I miss my home, too."

Alvilda's mouth dropped agape and a little smile lifted her face. And for the first time, Darcy thought she _might_ be able to get the hang of this Queen thing. But before she could say anything else and send the little girl back to her parents' arms, a thundering rumble of steel against steel disturbed the quiet, restless peace of the square. Darcy looked up to see stone-faced men in suits of Asgardian armor facing her, their hands on their swords.

None of them looked like they were here for a social call. Darcy's heart leapt into her throat.

"Lady Darcy."

"Yes?" She barely got the word out before they were on her, their hands recklessly tugging her up from the edge of the fountain. Pain blossomed wherever their hands went, their armor digging into her skin. All around her, shocked cries rang out. "Wait, what are you—"

"Come with us."

Darcy opened her mouth again. Stupid mistake. "But—"

An iron-gloved hand connected with her face. Spots flared in the center of her vision. And as she lost herself to the darkness, she only had the strength to hold onto one fading thought. _Where is Loki__?_

* * *

Loki was still holding that damned piece of newspaper when the sun settled low over the hills beyond the castle, still holding it when the dinner he'd had prepared for them had run cold, and still holding it when he'd been tempted—yet again—to invoke her image in The Orb. It was crumpled and weathered now, but he held onto it like hope, clinging until his knuckles ached.

The clock had just struck nine when a knock pounded at his door.

"Enter."

"Your Majesty," the rough, familiar voice of a soldier accompanied the rattling of his armor. "The human has been dealt with. As per your instructions."

"Wonderful. Where is she, then?"

Loki stood and rounded to face the man, eager to take his bit of newsprint and use this excuse to speak to Darcy once more.

He'd never been as eager to speak with her as in this moment. His heart—if you could still call that muscle operating in his chest a heart—was light, almost floating, as his mind kept recalling the images of her with those children. They loved her. The people _loved_ her. It didn't make him jealous, it made him want to unravel her and learn her secrets.

If they could love her…was it possible that she could teach him her ways? Was it possible that they could ever love him, too? Could he be more than an imposing figure and a protector, but a beloved leader? Maybe, but the long road there began with Darcy.

However, the joy within him leadened and dropped like a stone at the sight of the guard's impossibly pale, drawn face.

"In the dungeons. Where else would she be?"

Loki froze. Surely he hadn't heard him right. Involuntarily, his hand tightened around his staff, a lesson he'd learned from many battles and outbursts he'd had before. "What do you mean, _in the dungeons_?"

"We were told to take care of her."

It was as if the blood rushed from Loki's entire being, as if his magic had been stripped from him. Darkness crept all around, closing in. He struggled to keep his rage at bay and his staff at his side. "By keeping her safe! Not by—" _Darcy is in the dungeon. You don't have time to give this man the punishment he deserves._ His better nature won out over his anger, though he wouldn't let it forever. Anyone who laid a hand on Darcy Lewis' head would answer to him personally. He tried to tell himself it was professional—she was their Queen, after all, and harming her was tantamount to treason—but he knew this level of raw anger, anger that spit magic out of his fingertips and threatened his control over his own spells, couldn't just be professional. "Get out of my way. I'll deal with you later."

A flash of magic later and he was down in the dungeons. Rushing to the first closed cell, he clung to the bars and spoke, his words a rush of emotion.

Emotion that only heightened at the sight of her. The brave, strong Darcy Lewis curled up in the corner of the dark room, her bruised face pressing against the cool walls and her eyes closed to the world. She did not look up at the sound of him.

"Lady Darcy, please accept my most sincere—"

"Don't say my name," she said, her lips barely moving to choke out the words. "it sounds like a lie when you say it like that."

Making quick work of the lock keeping her prisoner, he opened the door for her, not daring to get close enough to touch her or help her up. A storm raged inside of her, one he wasn't sure he could quell. "I sent them to protect you. I didn't know who was out there, who could have—"

A harsh laugh passed her lips. Still, her eyes did not open. Not that he could blame her, of course. The last time they'd spoken, he'd fought her at every turn and now she ended up in a jail cell. Of course it seemed as if he'd done this to punish her. "So, you were worried about me?"

"Yes," he said, trying to get her to hear the regret in his voice since she would not look at him.

"So worried about me that you had your goons throw me in a jail cell?"

"No, that was a misunderstanding. You must understand—"

_That's_ when her eyes opened. And when they did, he almost wished they hadn't. Darcy had never been a gentle creature, but she'd always been kind. She believed that there was a man beneath the monster that was Loki of Freygard, even when all evidence pointed to the contrary. Now, he could see that she didn't believe that anymore. Now, she was disappointed in him. Rising to shaking legs, she bolted for the door, scratching at a dried cut on her face to clear the blood from her cheek. "I don't understand anything anymore! I was just trying to meet the people you want me to rule, the people I'm supposed to be _helping_ and you have me tossed in here like I'm nothing. Dammit, why won't this come off—"

As she neared him, Loki reached for her, his long slender fingers extending as gently as he could towards her face. "Here. Allow me—"

Darcy flinched, hissing: "Don't touch me."

"But it's magic," he said, desperate to do something, _anything_, to take away the disappointment lurking in her eyes. "I wouldn't have to touch you —"

"I don't want your magic, Loki."

"Then, what do you want?"

Rare was the human who didn't want a taste of magic. But Darcy shied away from him as if his very touch were poison. For a moment, she considered his question. Then, she locked eyes with him, held him fast in her gaze, and refused to let go until she'd let him know just how much he'd failed. Not just tonight, but every moment since they'd met. He'd failed to make her feel welcome here, failed to make her part of his life, failed to give her a life beyond these castle walls, failed to protect her…He'd failed. Utterly and completely.

The truth of that failure was more painful than any torture he'd ever endured before.

"I want to not feel so alone in this big universe. That's all. Now," she nodded to the doorway, which he was blocking. "Let me go."

Dazed, Loki obeyed, and followed the sound of her shoes until she'd nearly made it to the staircase leading away from this dark and dreadful place. But then, her voice rang out against the stones.

"You know, Loki. Not everyone is your enemy. Least of all me."

She left him then. Alone with his thoughts. Alone with his guilt. And alone with the words he didn't know how to say. _I'm sorry_.

* * *

**Another chapter! Thank you all SO SO much for loving and supporting this story! I love writing Tasertricks so much and I'm so glad you all are enjoying it! And don't worry. The tension between them starts to seriously thaw in the next chapter as Loki starts to make a REAL effort to be better for her, and I think you're all going to love it!**

**Did you like this chapter? Anything you're hoping to see later in the story? Let me know in the reviews! Also, I love reading other great fics, so if you've written a great Tasertricks fic or you have a recommendation for great Tasertricks fic, please let me know that, too! I'm always looking for stuff to read!**

**Thanks so much again, friends! Hope you enjoyed it!**


	6. Chapter 6

Loki couldn't sleep. He couldn't rest. He couldn't even get his body to stop long enough to sit down. All night, he wandered the halls of the castle, his eyes and his mind not able to settle on any particular thought or piece of art or feeling that passed his way.

All his life, he'd sworn that if he were ever King, he would be better than his father, better than his brother. He would rule with grace and mercy, with humor and strength, with intelligence and wit. He would be all that his family never was. Yet, at his first opportunity… his reputation for cruelty had preceeded him. The soldiers had taken one look at his history of violence and manipulation and understood his order as a cruel sentence to be carried out.

He'd failed to do the most basic job of a king: to protect. A king was, after all, a servant in many ways. And he'd broken that most basic of tenents today when those soldiers had raised a hand to Lady Darcy.

Of course, they'd been dealt with. But the guilt lingered.

Guilt. Such a strange emotion. It wasn't one Loki encountered very often, yet there it sat, like a boulder lodged directly between his shoulder blades. A boulder he didn't have the first idea how to remove.

Under the weight of that uncomfortable guilt, Loki found himself walking higher and higher, taking a grand staircase to the one place he knew he could breathe easily: the roof. It wasn't exactly proper for a King to sit on the roof of his own palace, but it probably wasn't very usual for a King to walk around wearing a golden, horned helmet, either.

Loki was nothing if not unconventional.

With each step, he felt his body relax, if not his mind. Once he was beneath the stars, surrounded by the sharp contrast of their light and the darkness around them, surely his mind would follow. It almost always did.

But no sooner had he climbed out of a small window onto the roof than he realized he wouldn't be getting the silent stargazing he'd hoped for.

Because there, sitting on the roof with a green glass bottle in her hands and a tube of something called _Pringles_ at her side, sat Darcy Lewis.

At first, she didn't notice him. Her bright eyes were set firmly on the cosmos, taking in the glory of the Heavens with a slight, distant, and almost sad smile upon her red lips. She was more than beautiful, sitting there, basking in the glow of the stars.

Loki's heart stirred. And died as soon as she turned, spotted him, and gave him the full sight of her bruised face.

"Hey!" She grabbed her chest, suddenly breathing very hard indeed. Loki took an apologetic step back, knowing he'd been caught staring. "You scared the shit out of me!"

_ Scared me_. He seemed to be doing a lot of that these days. The boulder of guilt on his shoulders only grew heavier.

"Oh. My apologies. I'll be going, then."

"No, you might as well show up here. That's the kind of day I'm having," Darcy grumbled, dryly.

Then, she raised the bottle in his direction. He noticed it was unopened, and sweating in the temperate evening air. "Do you drink beer?"

"Ale, sometimes."

"Earth beer. It's not good for drinking, really. But when it gets good and cold it's good for putting on bruises."

With that, she pressed the glass into her bruised cheek, her smile self-deprecating and cold. Loki itched to approach her, to say anything that might somehow fix what he'd broken, but the boulder of guilt, which grew closer to a mountain with every moment he looked at her, kept him firmly pinned to the spot.

He tore his eyes away from her face, glancing down at the steep drop over the edge of the rooftop. Worry gripped at him. Not for his own sake, but for hers. Careful not to draw too much attention to it, he waved his fingers at his sides in an incantation, setting a protective spell so she couldn't slip over the edge.

"It isn't safe up here for mortals. You couldn't save yourself if you fell."

"I couldn't sleep. Needed to clear my head."

"Is there something wrong? With your quarters, or—"

"Nope." His words died in his throat. But his concern remained. In fact, it only got worse with every word she spoke. For the first time since her arrival here, he saw her not as the confident, take-no-prisoners firebrand, but as a lost woman searching for…something. He just didn't have the first idea what she was missing. "Ever since Thanos, ever since The Snap, I just haven't slept too well when I'm alone. Your castle is big, your highness, but it's no good for sleeping."

"It's your castle, too," he said, gently. A mistake. Darcy scoffed.

"Tell that to the guards who knocked me into next year."

"I have. And they'll never hurt another living soul. You have my word."

It was a peace offering. A small bit of hope outstretched to her, that she might answer it and forgive him, just a little. While she didn't smile or anything so flashy as that, she did wave to the empty space beside her on the roof, an invitation that he should join her. Loki approached as he would a wounded animal, slowly and cautiously.

"And what about you? You couldn't sleep either?" she asked.

"No."

"Good."

"I suppose I deserve that."

"Why did you come up here? Did you follow me?"

The temptation to push her away, to shake her off and wallow in his own guilt and anger, was strong. But then, he heard Tarmin's voice in his ear again. _Crawl towards the light. If you want to escape the darkness, crawl towards the light_. Tentatively, Loki stepped forward and took the place she offered beside her, sitting back against the roof and staring at the stars as he spoke.

If he wanted her to trust him, then he needed to place some trust in _her_ first.

"No. I've always liked the stars, ever since I was a child. I was lonely, awkward. I didn't fit in. Going to the roof of the castle in Asgard, I would stare out at the never-ending cosmos and…it made me think there was a bigger universe out there. And that, perhaps, there was a place for me in it."

"You were a prince. Of course there was a place for you."

"Yes, I was a prince, but not of Asgard. I am a frost giant. In Asgardian clothing."

Darcy nearly choked on one of her Pringles. "_Really_?"

"Yes. My lust for conquest, my need for power…I was always reaching towards the stars, looking for a place to belong there. And when I didn't find one, I thought I could force one. I thought I could force people to love me."

He knew better than that now. After seeing the people, the children, with Darcy this afternoon, he knew that there was no way to force love. It had to be earned. The only problem was that he was the least worthy being in the whole universe.

He couldn't even earn Darcy's love. He'd already miserably failed at that, and he'd only been trying for a day. How was he meant to earn the love of an entire planet of broken, lost souls? Darcy inched closer to him, her gaze intent.

"And what happened?"

"One night, the stars reached back. And they reached inside my mind. And they stayed there. Thanos stayed there."

Darcy's voice lowered to a whisper. Loki tried not to let himself believe what she felt was concern for him…but the temptation to believe such an impossibility was strong. Concern was so close to care. And he wanted Darcy Lewis to care for him. "Thanos has been inside of your mind?"

"He was with me every step of the way in New York, pulling at my strings like a pathetic puppet. After that…After knowing what power like that can do…I have sworn to protect everyone on Freygard, from every danger." Words fell like raindrops after that, a deluge of emotions he could no longer keep restrained. "But I failed you. I hate myself for the things I have done, for the weakness of spirit that led me to Thanos…But I regret allowing you to be hurt most of all. The soldiers… They understand my reputation and misinterpreted an order, but a good king…" He braved a glance at her, but found her expression unreadable. His heart stuttered, and he returned to his stars. "A good _husband_…Should be able to protect his partner from such things. Though, of course, I understand if you'd like to return to Earth now."

Maybe it wasn't the best idea to remind her that they were very technically affianced. But he couldn't help himself. She needed to know that she could leave if she wanted to. That she could turn her back on him no matter what she'd promised The Avengers.

He owed her that much, at least.

She pointedly ignored it. Perhaps she didn't want to give him false hope or make promises she couldn't keep. Instead, she raised her unbruised eyebrow at him. A small sign that she was coming back to herself, that they were working their way back to a détente. "So, we're partners now, are we? Partners in what? In crime?"

"Partners in everything. If you'll give me another chance."

"And why should I?"

He considered that question. _Crawl towards the light._ And he couldn't help but smile, even the slightest bit. "Because I would like to be good. For once in my life, I'd at least like to _try_ to be good. And you seem like an expert in goodness, Lady Darcy Lewis."

* * *

Darcy had been hurt and pissed off and ready to call Captain Marvel to come here with her space minivan and get her off of this rock.

But then he had to go and apologize. And show real remorse. And take the blame. And offer to let her go. Just when she was ready to call it absolutely quits on Loki's humanity, he went and did something like this.

He just _had_ to show her that he still had a heart.

Well, fine. But that didn't mean she had to forgive him right away. Turning the bruised part of her face towards him, she watched as he flinched at the sight of the trauma. His soldiers had done a number on her, yes, but she had heard the screams coming from the castle. Loki had definitely punished them for what they'd done.

"You can start by using your magic to get rid of this shiner. It hurts like Hell."

"Of course."

Loki neared her, pulling close enough that she could sense every inch of him, but far enough away that she could actually _feel_ none of it. Even his hands, currently working their magic across her skin, didn't touch her. The only thing connecting them was the threads of his spell, which tingled and repaired her face. He was so close. Yet so far. Here, but not enough.

She spoke to distract herself. She spoke to answer the trust he'd put in her. But mostly, she spoke because she thought he needed to hear it almost as much as she needed to say it.

"You know, back on Earth, I would study the stars when I couldn't sleep. I was looking for something, anything, that would help me save the people we'd lost to Thanos. But I failed. The Avengers told me that if I came here, if I helped you, that they'd give me an astrophysics lab and an astronomy tower and that I could actually, finally, do some good in this universe." Loki pulled his hands away from her face. The incantation was over, but the spell she found herself under was not. She couldn't pull her gaze away from his. And she didn't want to. The air between them was warm, and it drew her in even closer to him. "But I haven't managed to do that either. I'm just a big, fat disappointment all around, I guess."

That's when his fingertips touched hers, just brushing the edge of her jaw, holding her in place as he spoke. "You haven't disappointed me."

"Really?"

"No. And I doubt you ever could."

His touch and his words had no magic in them. Darcy was entranced anyway. She glanced down at his lips. Beautiful lips. Softer than she'd imagined. Her own lips suddenly felt cold for not kissing him. She leaned forward, drawn to him.

Until she remembered who they were. What they were doing. She was here to open up _his_ heart, not the other way around. Clearing her throat, she drew her knees up into her chest and looked anywhere _but_ him.

_ Don't think about kissing him. Think about anything but kissing him. Like…Like…Oh, like the overwhelming terror of running an entire planet_.

"You know, I don't know the first thing about being queen."

"They will love you. They _did_ love you today. I think, perhaps, if you're ready, we could introduce you formally in the coming days."

"I'd like that."

God, would she like that. The thought of actually having a purpose here filled her with light and warmth. She wanted to help people, wanted to make a difference. She'd give anything for that chance. And, basically, by coming here to Freygard, she _had_ given everything for that chance. She'd given up a life on Earth for the opportunity to help.

And now, she would get her wish.

Loki opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off with a big—and involuntary—yawn. He smirked.

"I'm glad my conversation has proved so stimulating."

"No, I'm just exhausted. Do you think there's such a thing as intergalactic jet-lag?"

"I wouldn't know."

"I just can't sleep. I anticipate a lot of late nights out here since there's not an astronomy tower to lock myself up in."

A joke. Or, at least, she'd meant it as one. But Loki's face hardened into something decidedly serious. His problem-solving face, she realized. After a moment of contemplative silence, he managed out a suggestion, never once looking at her as he spoke.

"Well, if you're having trouble sleeping alone, I could offer my services as a companion."

She raised an eyebrow. "You want me to sleep with you?"

"Not like that. Just…in the same bed. Or the same room. Whatever makes you most comfortable."

She searched him for any sign that this was a trick or a trap or some way to lure her to her doom. But she couldn't find one single suggestion that he was trying to pull a slick move to get her into bed. He seemed…strangely enough…genuinely worried about her comfort here. She nodded.

"I'll think about it."

With that, Loki rose and started back for the window from which he'd came. But before he went, he reached into his pocket and picked up a folded put of newsprint before offering it to her. "Oh, one more thing. I found this in one of the Freygardian newspapers. A chef is trying to blend Asgardian and human cuisine, as you did with your tacos. I thought it might interest you."

"Thank you. This is…" Their fingertips brushed as she took the paper from him. His hands were cold, but her heart was steadily warming nonetheless. It was such a small gesture, but it proved so, so much. "It's very cool."

"Think nothing of it. Goodnight, Lady Darcy."

"Goodnight."

* * *

An hour later, Darcy was still wide awake. Staring at the stars. Thinking about Loki. As she thought, her feet carried her away from the rooftops of the palace and through its hallways, until they stopped directly in front of the King's Quarters. The door glowed gold with some kind of protective enchantment, but it melted away as she raised her hand to knock.

_ It's just sleeping_, she reminded herself. _Nothing weird. You'll wear your PJ's and cuddle and maybe you'll finally get a couple of decent hours' rest_.

But she pulled her hand away from the door and retreated down the hallway, back towards her own rooms. She wasn't ready to give him this chance yet.

* * *

Loki didn't sleep a wink that night. Instead, he lay awake, staring at his bedroom door, waiting for a knock that would never come.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day, Darcy slept in. Well, slept is an exaggeration. More precisely, she laid in her bed until well past noon, flipping through some of the books she'd brought with her from Earth and wondering what her next move should be. Yeah, she'd chickened out of going into his bedroom last night, which made things a little more complicated. If he was offended by her rejection, then she needed to play things carefully. But if he understood her distance, then she could toy with him a little more, draw him out a little more dramatically.

For awhile, she turned to the pages of her favorite romance novels for inspiration. But when that didn't work, she mostly just flipped through the sex scenes and tried not to think of how she was starting to imagine her and Loki playing out some of the paper positions.

Eventually, she got her answer. Because around noon, Elvera came into the room, her flowing, multicolored robes fluttering behind her as she swanned in. The sunlight caught the vibrant rainbow of her clothes, which only made the thin-lipped gravity of her face all the more obvious. After curtseying, she cleared her throat and read from a small slip of parchment in her hand.

_"The King requests the honor of your company on a tour of the capital city of Freygard." _

"Does he now?"

The guy didn't learn anything from the whole dinner fiasco, did he? She wasn't going to be summoned and she wasn't going to be commanded. Elvera's expression dipped into a grimace as Darcy returned back to her book, disinterested in a tour if this was how she was going to get one.

"I'm afraid so, my lady."

"Why are you afraid so?"

"Because I'm certain you're about to tell me that he should come here and ask you himself. And that I'm the lucky one who gets to inform him of that."

Poor Elvera. Darcy didn't manage to swallow back a smirk.

"God, you already know me so well. Good luck."

"_Help the human girl_, they said," she muttered under her breath as she turned back towards the door. "_It will be fun,_ they said."

"You're a Saint and a good friend, Elvera," Darcy called after her.

"And _you_ are going to be sending me back to Krylor if Loki turns me into a snake or something."

Half an hour later, there had been no explosions or sudden snake invasions in the castle, so Darcy assumed that Loki hadn't completely devoured Elvera for telling him to shove his invitation where the sun didn't shine. Good. At least he was proving he could learn. Then, suddenly, a small, hesitant knock smattered against the door to her chambers.

"Lady Darcy?"

Her heart gave a little flutter at the sound of her name in his voice. But she shoved down the sensation.

"Yes?" she called, oh-so innocently, as she walked towards the door. "Who is it?"

There was a pause. Then, the trickster god spoke again. "Who would you want it to be?"

"Oh, I don't know. Someone tall, lithe and handsome. Preferably if he looked like he hadn't gotten a good night sleep in weeks. Maybe wearing something green and broody?"

She threw open the door, fully expecting him to have magicked himself into an overdrawn parody of what she'd just described, but instead, she found him with his hand caught, mid-spell, his chin downturned and his jaw slightly slack. When she appeared in the doorway, only his surprised eyes moved to glimpse her.

It was as if something she'd said had shocked him into stillness.

Then, he spoke, and she realized what had gotten to him, what had taken away his veneer of perfect control and rendered him basically speechless. "Handsome?"

She hadn't expected him to pick up on that. Clearing her throat, she suddenly found the carvings in her door paneling _very_ interesting.

"Well I never went for the whole jock thing."

"Is that so?"

Without looking at him, she could still hear his smirk. Bastard. She hit him back, straightening to her full height and taking a defiant step forward, answering his smirk with one of her own. "Yeah, my type was always guys who wouldn't necessarily beat me in a fight."

"Oh, you don't think I could defeat you in battle?" He asked, the words smooth as honey and twice as sweet.

"I'd like to see you try."

She took another step forward, her chest brushing against his. Instinct told her to run, that he was dangerous, that he could kill her where she stood. But bravery, curiosity, and desire all conspired to keep her rooted to the spot. Loki tutted, sarcasm dancing in his striking gaze.

"Oh, Lady Darcy, you should know that I can't be distracted by a pair of pretty eyes."

"Really?" That's when she made her move, slow and careful, never once letting her stare stray from his. He was as trapped in this moment as she was, as helpless to whatever was happening between them. "Because I already have my hand around the handle of your dagger. I could cut you through right now. Nebula, Thanos' daughter, taught me herself."

"But you won't."

"And what makes you so sure of that?"

Involuntarily, her hand tightened around the handle of the blade. Her heart hammered in her ears. She waited for him to zap her with some kind of spell or something else she'd expect from a god. But his smirk broadened, and he winked.

"Because you just called me handsome. I wouldn't make a very fine-looking corpse, unfortunately for you."

"I just meant, like…" A flush travelled up her collar. That's when the stammering started. Pushing away from him, she released the knife and tried, terribly, to backpedal. "You know. Aesthetically, you're…It's just… Oh, fine. Just take your stupid dagger back."

"Very good." He ran his hands over the handle of the blade, checking that she hadn't tricked him. Joke was on him. He didn't know that she was hiding about seven blades on her person from Nebula. "Now that I have some insurance that you won't be murdering me for the crown, I thought we might go out into the city, see some of your new kingdom."

"But I haven't been _officially introduced_ yet. I thought you didn't want me going out until my _formal introduction."_

Loki waved his hands, and before Darcy knew it, they were both transfigured, their clothes turned into normal, street clothes. She had to admit it…Loki looked very, very appealing in a grey sweater and tight jeans.

"That's what the disguises are for." He glanced at her green sweater and black skirt set, appraisingly. She fought the urge to blush under his scrutiny. "You look very fetching in my colors."

"Oh, so you own the color green now?"

"On this planet, I own everything, Darcy Lewis."

He was suddenly close. So close. How did he get that close? She swallowed, and tried not to trace the curves of his lips with her eyes. "Not me."

There was something like a smile on his lips. Not a smirk, but a real smile. "You're right. No one can own a Queen. And I'd weep for the fool who tried."

* * *

Once they'd made it to the front wings of the castle, a small contingent of soldiers took their places near their King and Future Queen. The hairs on the back of Darcy's neck rose on-end. Loki carried on as if there was nothing wrong, but Darcy couldn't help but tense up at their thundering-booted presence nearby. She could still remember how they'd hurt her. And even if Loki had "dealt with" the ones who'd done it, she didn't trust the ones who remained. Not yet, anyway.

"Now, I suggest we begin—"

"No soldiers."

Loki stopped dead in his tracks. She could tell he still wasn't used to having his decisions questions. Well, tough luck. Darcy was nothing if not questioning. "I beg your pardon?"

"I don't want any of them near me. Besides, if we're going incognito—"

"Of course, you're right." He turned his attention to the one in the center of the phalanx following them. "Go. Leave us."

With a small bow, the solider led his compatriots away, until only Darcy and Loki remained in the hall. For a moment, they stood there in quiet, companionable silence, until the last boot left the marble flooring. _Thank you_ hung on Darcy's lips, but she couldn't seem to form the words. She wasn't sure she'd ever be in a place to thank him.

"Come," he said, pointing the way. "There is much to see, Lady Darcy."

"You know, I'm glad you invited me on this tour."

"You didn't leave me much of a choice, did you?"

As they walked side-by-side, close enough to touch but neither daring to actually do so, Darcy shoved her hands in her pockets to quell the urge to hold his hand. After all, that was what people did on dates, right?

Oh, God. Was this a date? Or was it just a _getting-to-know-my-future-Queen _thing? And what did she want it to be?

Shaking her hand to clear it, she tried to focus on the conversation at hand.

"Well, if you're going to learn to be good, actually _asking_ people things before you just take them is always a good start."

"Ah, but taking can be so much fun. You underestimate the beauty of power."

They turned a corner towards the far gates surrounding the castle, and Darcy rolled her eyes. Sure, there was something magnetic about the nature of power…But she wasn't going to encourage him.

"Right. I forgot. You're a super badass who rules with an iron fist. You know, if you want to be a good ruler, as you say you do, then you'll need to learn how to—Wait. What's that?"

Darcy knew what the skyline of the castle looked like. After being locked up in here for days, she knew its every nook and cranny. But now, suddenly, when she looked up, she spotted a brand-new, very tall tower sticking out of the north wing.

"What's what? I don't see anything. Come, let us go to the—"

"That. Over there. It wasn't there yesterday. It looks like an astronomy tower."

"Oh. Interesting. Strange. Life is full of mysteries, isn't it?" He tugged on her arm, away from the building. "We really should—"

"Loki. Did you _build_ _me_ an astronomy tower?"

"It's an astrophysics lab. Actually."

_Gotcha_. Her victory at hearing that correction was only slightly overshadowed by, you know, the realization that he'd _built her an astrophysics lab_.

"And when were you going to tell me about this?"

"I thought eventually you'd just find it."

"Why wouldn't you show me yourself?" She stopped short, her eyes flickering between him and the great tower dotting the skyline beyond. It hit her like a ton of bricks. "Oh. You didn't want me to know you'd done it for me."

"If Freygard is to be part of the intergalactic community, then we needed a strong astrophysics lab. Nothing more."

That was a denial if she'd ever heard one, but Darcy let it go. Besides, she was too excited. He'd thought of her. He'd heard her frustration and her desires and he'd given her a gift. That had to mean something, didn't it?

"...Can I see it?"

"It's your castle, too. You can go anywhere you'd like."

Before she could help herself, she grabbed his hand tight, and began pulling him towards the castle.

"Come on. Show me."

* * *

Loki, of course, would never—not as long as his immortality lasted—admit to Darcy that she was right. He really _hadn't_ wanted her to know about the gift he'd spent all night building for her with his magic. Part of him had been hoping that someone else would tell her about it, and she'd be good enough not to mention it to him, that she would just go about using it and that they would spent the rest of their reign and marriage not mentioning the fact that he'd built her an astrophysics lab onto the north wing of the castle.

But now that he was there, leaning against the doorway as she ran around the lab's main floor, taking in all that he'd built for her—from the tables built at the optimal height for her stature to the equipment he'd curated from all across the known galaxy—, watching her eyes light up like an entire system of stars and her entire spirit brighten and warm against the darkness and the cold that always seemed to dominate his spirit…he was glad that his plot hadn't worked. He wouldn't have traded this moment, not if Thanos offered him the entirety of the cosmos in exchange.

"A radon telescope! NASA doesn't even have one of these yet! Oh, a star-matter collector! No way, how did you get a ASPEC drone?"

Loki bit the inside of his lip, folding his arms across his chest as he waited for her verdict. He wasn't used to giving gifts, to offering generosity to anyone. After all, giving a gift was like giving a piece of yourself, and his self wasn't worth much. Not to anyone. He waited for the heel-turn, for her to look at him and tell him that his gift was as worthless and useless and terrible as he always believed himself to be.

"Do you like it?"

"Like it?" All at once, Darcy's frantic motions around the lab stopped. She blinked at him, then closed the space between them, and laced her fingers through his. A simple gesture. A human gesture. But one that threatened to shatter the wall of ice he'd frozen around his heart. "I love it. Thank you."

* * *

Thor, the former prince and King of Asgard and current Guardian of the Galaxy—or so he was told their ragtag group of miscreants was called—woke to the sounds of "Centerfold," one of the Rabbit's favorite songs, blaring through the ship's audio systems. Groaning, he rolled out of bed and prepared himself for the day of saving the universe.

Out in the ship's main galley, he found no sign of the rest of his fellow Guardians, but the small leader of their group was up in the ship's wiring overhead, sparking cables in an attempt to fix something Thor couldn't quite place.

After all, he was the brawn in this ship. He left the tinkering to the Rabbit and that human who didn't like him very much.

"Ah, Rocket Rabbit, our fearless Captain. How are you this fine morning?"

"Thor, it's space. There isn't morning and night. You've got to get used to that, pal. Just like you've got to get used to picking up your own bunk. If I trip over another bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos, I'm going to shove you outta an airlock, you understand?"

"Perfectly, my Rabbit friend." Thor bounded to the captain's chair, where he called up the command screen and began tapping up the communications board in search of their next adventure. "What word on the wireless, then? Any communications? Any jobs that need doing?"

"Get away from that thing. There's nothing for you."

That piqued Thor's interest. His fingers flew across the command screen now, searching for the most recent incoming transmissions. "Then there is something for someone else, I assume? Well, I'm sure no one would mind if I just—"

"Don't touch that—"

But it was too late. By the time the little Rabbit screamed out to him, diving from the wires to land heavy on Thor's shoulders, he'd already pressed the large orange button, activating the latest news transmission from Earth.

The footage sank Thor's stomach, heavy as if he'd swallowed Mjilnor itself. His morning joviality disappeared. Because, before him, was holographic footage of his brother—his own brother, his dead brother—very much alive, ruling some planet called Freygard.

"What is this?" Thor demanded. "Is this old footage?"

Rocket slid off of his shoulders, his voice small. "No, it was from this morning."

"Loki is out there?"

"Yeah, but Thor, he ain't the one you remember—"

Thor wasn't listening. He was already halfway across the ship. If his brother was out there, he would find him. "I must go to him. Rabbit! Pack my Cheetos and my best armor! I am going to Freygard!"

* * *

**I can't wait to see what you think of this chapter and the Thor of it all! Thanks for reading!**


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